It was a feeble whisper, and as the brothers bent over the injured man, they could see that he was gazing wildly at them with a face full of horror and despair. "I'll trot down and fetch Knatchbull," whispered Uncle Luke. "No." The negative came from Leslie, who was lying back with his eyes closed, and it was so decisive that the brothers paused. At that moment Liza entered the room. "She isn't up-stairs, sir.--Ow!" The girl had caught sight of Leslie's ghastly face, and she uttered an excited howl, and thrust her fingers into her ears. Leslie looked up at George Vine vacantly for a moment, and then light seemed to come to his clouded brain, and his lips moved. "Say it again," said Vine, bending over him. "Send--her--away," whispered the injured man. "Yes, of course. Liza, go and wait--no; get a basin of water, sponge, and towel, and bring them when I ring." The girl looked at him wildly, but she had not heard his words; and Uncle Luke put an end to the difficulty by taking her arm and leading her into the hall. "Go and get sponge and basin. Mr Leslie has fallen and hurt himself. Now, don't be stupid. You needn't cry." The girl snatched her arm away and ran through the baize door. "Just like a woman!" muttered Uncle Luke as he went back; "no use when she's wanted. Well, how is he?" Leslie heard the whisper, and turned his eyes upon him with a look of recognition. "Better," he whispered. "Faint--water." George Vine opened the cellarette, and gave him a little brandy, whose reviving power proved wonderful. But after heaving a deep sigh, he lay back with his forehead puckered. "Hadn't I better fetch Knatchbull, my lad?" said Uncle Luke gruffly, but with a kindly ring in his voice. "Cut on the back of your head. He'd soon patch it up." "No. Better soon," said Leslie in a low voice. "Let me think." "Be on the look out," whispered Uncle Luke to his brother. "Better not let Louise come in." Leslie's eyes opened quickly, and he gazed from one to the other. "Better not let her see you till you are better," said Uncle Luke, taking the injured man into their confidence. A piteous sigh escaped from Leslie, and he closed his eyes tightly. "Poor boy!" said Uncle Luke, "he must have had an ugly fall. Missed his way in the dark, I suppose. George, you'll have to keep him here to-night." "Yes, yes, of course," said George Vine uneasily, for his ears were on the strain to catch his child's step, and her absence troubled him. All at once Leslie made an effort to sit up, but a giddy sensation overcame him, and he sank back, staring at them wildly. "Don't be alarmed," said George Vine kindly. "You are faint. That's better." Leslie lay still for a few moments, and then made a fresh effort to sit up. This time it was with more success. "Give him a little more brandy," whispered Uncle Luke.