He regarded me with a strange, puzzled expression, and then, in alarm, he rushed forward to me, crying--"Why, sir! You've hurt your head! Look! You're covered with blood!" His grey face was pale, and for an instant he stood regarding me open-mouthed. "Can't you answer my question?" I demanded hastily. "I know that I've injured my head. I didn't call you in order to learn that. I want to know where I am." The man's countenance slowly assumed a terrified expression as he regarded me, and then, without further word, he flew from the room as fast as his legs could carry him. I heard him shouting like a lunatic, in some other part of the house, and stood utterly dumbfounded at his extraordinary behaviour. He had escaped from my presence as though he had seen an apparition. A few minutes later, however, he returned, accompanied by a dark-haired, well-dressed man of about thirty, tall, rather good-looking, and apparently a gentleman. The instant the latter saw me he rushed forward, crying, in a voice of distress-- "Oh, my dear sir, whatever has happened?" "My head," I explained. "It was that ugly-faced scoundrel Hickman. Where is he?" "Hickman?" echoed the new-comer. "Hickman? Who's he?" "Oh, it's all very well for you to pretend to know nothing about it," I cried angrily. "But I tell you that as soon as I'm able I'll apply for a warrant for his arrest on a charge of attempted murder. Last night he tried to kill me." "I don't understand you," the stranger responded. "I don't, of course, expect you to admit any complicity in the affair," I snapped. "You'd be a fool if you did. All I tell you is that an attempt has been made upon my life by a man to whom I was introduced as Hickman." "Not in this room?" I hesitated. "No, not in this room," I admitted. "It was in a house at Chelsea." The young man exchanged meaning glances with the man-servant. "At Chelsea!" repeated the stranger. "In London?" "In London." "Well, that's very curious," he remarked. Then, turning to the servant, said-- "Gill, go and fetch Doctor Britten at once. Say nothing of this to any one in the house." "Yes, sir," answered the servant, who instantly withdrew. "I suppose you've sent for the doctor to bandage my head?" I remarked cynically. "I'm perfectly competent to do that if you'll kindly oblige me with a little warm water, a sponge, and some clean old linen." "No, no," he urged. "Wait in patience until Britten comes. He'll be here in a moment. I saw him returning home only ten minutes ago." "But how came I here?" I demanded. He hesitated, regarding me with evident distrust, mingled with considerable alarm. "I--I really don't know," he responded lamely.