Loraine came obediently. The Superintendent had produced a large, clean pockethandkerchief and was neatly bandaging the wounded man’s arm. Loraine helped him.

“He’ll be all right,” said the Superintendent. “Don’t you worry. As many lives as cats, these young fellows. It wasn’t the loss of blood knocked him out either. He must have caught his head a crack on the floor as he fell.”

Outside the knocking on the door had become tremendous. The voice of George Lomax, furiously upraised, came loud and distinct:

“Who is in there? Open the door at once.”

Superintendent Battle sighed.

“I suppose we shall have to,” he said. “A pity.”