Oakes and I stepped out on the balcony, through the low-silled window, and looked across the river. I heard a rustle, I thought--a half-muffled tread; a swish, a peculiar noise--and Oakes jumped to the centre of the balcony. "Look out! That's the noise," cried the detective. We both glanced toward Moore, and saw a terrible sight. The strong man was unsteady on his feet, his knees were bent, and his head thrown forward. Great drops of perspiration were rolling off his pale face. He looked like a man about to fall. "Help, for God's sake, help!" he cried, and clutched at his neck. That instant the physician came across the room, hurled by terrific force. I caught him as he fell, and saved him from an injury against the table. He was overcome completely; he held his neck in a pained position and groaned. Oakes, weapon in hand, advanced to the hall. We all heard a distant muffled noise, preceded by a slam. At that instant our attention was called to the balcony. A figure jumped on the porch from the west side and dashed past the windows, leaving the balcony near its southern end, and disappearing in the trees beyond. "A man!" said Oakes, "and he was hiding behind the porch." "Yes, but _he_ did not do it; how could he have run there so quickly?" I answered. "Better take Moore upstairs," saying which, Oakes jumped from the room, and instead of going out of the front door, he sprang to the west end of the hall near the dining-room, and opened a door I had not noticed. "Where are you going?" said I. "Into the cellar. Don't follow, unless I shoot." He was gone. I partly carried, partly helped Dr. Moore up to his room and placed him on the bed. He was pale, and I realized he was shocked. I found my flask, and gave him a good drink, and then saw that the back of his neck was bleeding. I bathed it, and tied it up in a clean towel. As I worked, he held his revolver in his hand and watched the door, talking quickly and earnestly. He told me about how he had wondered if Oakes were insane, then of the assault on himself; how he had heard the noise and had certainly been attacked by some living being, and was satisfied that his suspicions could not be correct. He had been thoroughly converted. All this took some time, and now we were wondering what had become of our friend. The minutes passed, and I decided to descend and see what the servants were doing, and raise an alarm. Just as I was setting off we heard two pistol cracks, muffled, but the noise from cartridges such as we carried, nevertheless. I grasped my weapon and started downstairs. As I reached the top of the landing, I heard the cellar door close with a bang on the floor below, and heard a slow tread ascending the stairs. I retreated, so as to aid my wounded companion. The tread advanced along the hall. It was that of a man, limping. The next instant we recognized Oakes's voice: "Where are you, anyway?"