“And now, tell us about the night you were hurt.”
He was lighting a cigarette at the moment, and he halted, the match held in mid-air, and glanced from her to me.
“I’ll do that,” he said, with his twisted smile, “if Mr. Porter will tell me how he and the doctor both happened to be such Johnnies on the spot.”
But he carried that no further, and although the covert insolence of the speech brought the color to Edith’s face, she continued to smile.
“There isn’t much to tell,” he went on. “The fellow got into the house all right; I turned to go in by the door and head him off, and that’s all I remember.”
“But you rang the bell first, didn’t you?”
Whether because he hated to acknowledge that call for help, or for some reason none of us can determine tonight, he hesitated.
“Yes,” he said f
