“A surgeon!” I cried.  “A surgeon first of all!”

Some one had wrenched a lamp from the Grand Walk and held it, flickering in the wind, before his Lordship’s face.  Guided by its light, more people came running through the wood, then the warders with lanthorns, headed by Mr. Tyers, and on top of him Mr. Fitzpatrick and my Lord Carlisle.  We carried poor Jack to the house at the gate, and closed the doors against the crowd.

By the grace of Heaven Sir Charles Blicke was walking in the gardens that night, and, battering at the door, was admitted along with the constable and the watch.  Assisted by a young apothecary, Sir Charles washed and dressed the wound, which was in the left groin, and to our anxious questions replied that there was a chance of recovery.

“But you, too, are hurt, sir,” he said, turning his clear eyes upon me.  Indeed, the blood had been dripping from my hand and arm during the whole of the operation, and I began to be weak from the loss of it.  By great good fortune Chartersea’s thrust, which he thought had ended my life, passed under my armpit from behind and, stitching the skin, lodged deep in my right nipple.  This wound the surgeon bound carefully, and likewise two smaller ones.

The constable was for carrying me to the Marshalsea.  And so I was forced to tell that I had quarrelled with Chartersea; and the watch, going out to the scene of the fight, discovered the duke’s sword which he had pulled out of me, and Lewis’s laced hat; and also a trail of blood leading from the spot.  Mr. Tyers testified that he had seen Chartersea that night, and Lord Carlisle and Fitzpatrick to the grudge the duke bore me.  I was given my liberty.

Comyn was taken to his house in Brook Street, Grosvenor Square, in Sir Charles’s coach, whither I insisted upon preceding him.  ’Twas on the way there that Fitzpatrick told me Dorothy had fainted when she heard the alarm—­a piece of news which added to my anxiety.  We called up the dowager countess, Comyn’s mother, and Carlisle broke the news to her, mercifully lightening me of a share of the blame.  Her Ladyship received the tidings with great fortitude; and instead of the torrent of reproaches I looked for, and deserved, she implored me to go home and care for my injuries lest I get the fever.  I believe that I burst into tears.

His Lordship was carried up the stairs with never a word or a groan from his lips, and his heart beating out slowly.

We reached my lodgings as the watchman was crying:  “Past two o’clock, and a windy morning!”

Mr. Fitzpatrick stayed with me that night.  And the next morning, save for the soreness of the cuts I had got, I found myself well as ever.  I was again to thank the robustness of my health.  Despite the protests of Banks and Fitzpatrick, and of Mr. Fox (who arrived early, not having been to bed at all), I jumped into a chaise and drove to Brook Street.  There I had the good fortune to get the greatest load from my mind.  Comyn was resting so much easier that the surgeon had left, and her Ladyship retired two hours since.