The young surgeon, whose faculty for putting two and two together was as acute as the next man's, sensed the reason at once.
"He won't die," he answered--"if that's what you want to know."
"Who won't die?" Andrews came back evasively. He had volunteered to get what information he could for Mrs. Darling, and he was distinctly uncomfortable under the attitude taken by this man whom he had started to question.
"The boor upstairs who got in the way of someone's forty-five-caliber automatic. It wasn't by any chance yours, I suppose?"
The blood rushed to Andrews's face, but in the dim light of the porch it is probable that Mayhan failed to observe it.
"I don't indulge in indiscriminate pistol practice," he defended weakly. "I heard a man had been wounded and came in here, and I strolled over to inquire out of idle curiosity."
"He won't die," said Mayhan again, and prepared to move away.
"But who is he?" asked Andrews, following a step.
"The most insufferable beast I've met in years--name of Scripps."
"Hand torn up a bit. Anything else you'd like to know?"
Andrews hesitated. Then: "Say how it happened?"
"Oh, yes," he answered wickedly, "of course! Naturally, I asked him."
"Oh, if there's any secret about it--why, I--"
Mayhan laughed irritatingly; so irritatingly that his questioner was tempted to silence him with his fist.
"No secret at all," the surgeon said, starting off. "It happened--purely by accident."
Then young Andrews, nettled and thoroughly uncomfortable, hastened back to Nina with his scant news. The name "Scripps" meant nothing to her.
But Mayhan, meanwhile, dropping into the club, exploded a bombshell. He found Colonel Darling alone and brooding in his chosen corner, a tall glass of Scotch and soda at his right hand.
"I say, colonel," he blurted, "just came from a chap who says he knows you--or did. Name of Nibbetts."
Darling started so violently that his arm struck the table, jarred it, and sent over the whisky glass, splashing.
For a moment his face flamed and the veins in his neck swelled to the danger point. He gripped the chair-arms, and his throat emitted an inarticulate gurgle.
The next minute he relaxed suddenly, pale as paper.
Colonel Darling's courage had never been questioned. But physical courage is one thing and moral courage is another--very much another; and it was physical courage in which Darling was strong.