Part 4 (1/2)

”There is no doubt at all about it,” I answered, ”and you ought to inform the police at once. This man--Grooten, he called himself--pulled the pistol out of his pocket, and was pretending to show it to me when he fired the shot. He told me that it was a new invention which he had bought in America, and which was quite noiseless.”

The manager hurried from the room. The child and I were alone, except for the man on the couch. Every now and then he groaned--a sound I could not hear without a s.h.i.+ver. The child, however, was unmoved. She fixed her dark eyes on me.

”Do you think that he will get away?” she asked eagerly.

”You mean the man who shot Major Delahaye?”

”Yes.”

”I think that it is very likely. He has a good start, and I expect that he had made his arrangements.”

”I hope he does,” she murmured pa.s.sionately. ”I wish that I could help him.”

”You have no idea who he was?” I asked. ”I do not believe that Grooten was his real name.”

She shook her head.

”I have never seen him before in my life,” she said. ”If I did know I should not tell anyone.”

The doctor came at last. In reality it was barely five minutes since he had been sent for, but time dragged itself along slowly in that little room. Directly afterwards Huber, the manager, returned, followed by a sergeant of the police. We all waited for the doctor's examination. I fetched a chair for the child, and she thanked me with a wan little smile. Always she sat with her back to the sofa. There was something terribly suggestive in her utter lack of sympathy with the wounded man.

The doctor finished his examination at last. He came towards us.

”The wound is a very curious one,” he said, ”and I am afraid that the bullet will be difficult to extract, but it is not in itself serious. It is really only a flesh wound, but the man is suffering from severe shock, and I don't like the action of his heart. He can be removed quite safely. If you like I will telephone for an ambulance and take him to the hospital. Do you know anything about this affair, sergeant?”

”Very little as yet, sir,” the man answered. ”I want this gentleman's description of the person who showed him the pistol. The commissionaire saw him leave, I understand, and one of the waiters saw something in his hand. Was he a friend of yours, sir?”

”I only know his name,” I answered. ”He called himself Mr. Grooten, and I judged him to be a foreigner, though he spoke perfect English. He seemed to be about fifty years old, clean-shaven, and of under medium height.”

”Too vague,” the sergeant remarked. ”Had he any peculiarity of feature or expression, anything which would help towards identification?”

”None that I can remember,” I answered.

”How was he dressed?”

”Quietly. I could not remember anything that he wore.”

”Did he give you any idea of his intention? Did he speak of Major Delahaye at all as though he knew him?”

I shook my head.

”We simply both remarked,” I said slowly, ”that this--young lady seemed to be very frightened of her companion, and I do not think that we formed a favourable impression of him. He gave me not the slightest intimation, however, of his intention to interfere.”

”It could not have been an accident, I suppose?” Mr. Huber suggested.

”I might have thought so,” I answered, ”if he had not immediately left the place. He disappeared so quickly that I did not even see him go.”

”You sat by accident at the same table?” the sergeant asked.