Back again he turned into the little room, and lifting the body of the governor on to the bed, he hastily tore away the clothing until the wound lay bare. Quickly his hand fumbled in his pocket until he had found what he sought; then, pulling the cork from the little bottle, with a tiny hook of shining metal he probed for an instant into the bullet's track, and then poured a drop or two of the liquid into the wound. With a long-drawn sigh, as if of relief, he rose, and gazed at the motionless body.
"And that settles you," he muttered, below his breath; "if you should come to, it won't be for long. Maybe that won't make your high-priced doctors sit up and take notice for a bit. And now, by God," he added brutally, "I guess I'll treat you to a little ride. You don't look like you'd make out very well walking it. Damn Durgin! Why doesn't he come?"
It was long after midnight when, through the driving sheets of rain, a carriage stole softly up the deserted street and stopped in front of the governor's dwelling. The driver, slipping from the box, opened the carriage door, and helped to hold upright the silent figure that his companion half lifted, half pushed, from within. In silence they carried their burden up the steps, in silence and in haste propped it against the outer door, and again in silence descended and drove away, until the outline of the carriage, quickly blending with the darkness, was at last lost to sight as it turned into the street leading away to the northeast.
Up-stairs, in the pleasant warmth, the faithful Hargreaves, for the twentieth time that night, stepped to the telephone. "Yes, sir," he answered, "all right, sir. Nine o'clock to-morrow morning. Oh, no, indeed. Nothing serious, sir. Just tired. There's no light in his room, now. I think he's sleeping sound."
Outside, braving the wind and the rain and the storm, the huddled figure, with its head sunk on its chest, leaned wearily, as if mutely pleading for shelter, against the fast closed door. The small hours of the morning came, and went. Still the figure was motionless. Spitefully the lashing rain beat down as if to rouse it; fiercely the gale, howling and moaning through the deserted streets, stopped to beat and buffet it; yet strangely, the figure, gazing with fixed, unseeing eyes, made no effort to resist, no effort to move. Governor Gordon slept soundly indeed.