Sapt held the lamp in that
direction, and we saw Herbert the forester, pale-faced and
wide-eyed, raised from the ground on his two hands, while his
legs stretched behind him and his stomach rested on the flags.
"Who is it?" he said in a faint voice.
"Why, man, you know us," said the constable, stepping up to him.
"What's happened here?"
The poor fellow was very faint, and, I think, wandered a little
in his brain.
"I've got it, sir," he murmured; "I've got it, fair and straight.
No more hunting for me, sir. I've got it here in the stomach. Oh,
my God!" He let his head fall with a thud on the floor.
I ran and raised him. Kneeling on one knee, I propped his head
against my leg.
"Tell us about it," commanded Sapt in a curt, crisp voice while I
got the man into the easiest position that I could contrive.
In slow, struggling tones he began his story, repeating here,
omitting there, often confusing the order of his narrative,
oftener still arresting it while he waited for fresh strength.
Yet we were not impatient, but heard without a thought of time. I
looked round once at a sound, and found that James, anxious about
us, had stolen along the passage and joined us.
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