"Yes, there's no doubt, sir, you've been stabbed! What kind of a man
was he?"
"I never saw him," was my lame reply. "He always kept at a distance
from me and only approached at a point where it was too dark to
distinguish his features."
"I've seen no one, except a clergyman whom I met a moment ago passing in
Earl's Court Road--at least he wore a broad-brimmed hat like a
clergyman. I didn't see his face."
"A clergyman!" I gasped. "Do you think it could have been a Roman
Catholic priest?" for my thoughts were at that moment of Fra Antonio,
who was evidently the guardian of the Cardinal's secret.
"Ah! I'm sure I couldn't tell. I couldn't see his features. I only
noted his hat."
"I feel very faint," I said, as a sickening dizziness crept over me. "I
wish you'd get me a cab. I think I had better go straight home to Great
Russell Street."
"That's a long way. Hadn't you better go round to the West London
Hospital first?" the policeman suggested.
"No," I decided. "I'll go home and call my own doctor."
Then I sat upon a doorstep at the end of Lexham Gardens and waited while
the constable went in search of a hansom in the Old Brompton Road.
Had I been attacked by some homicidal maniac who had followed me all
that distance, or had I narrowly escaped being the victim of foul
assassination? To me the latter theory seemed decidedly the most
feasible. There was a strong motive for my death. Blair had bequeathed
the great secret to me and I had now learnt the cipher of the cards.
This fact had probably become known to our enemies, and hence their
dastardly attempt.
Such a contingency, however, was a startling one, for if it had become
known that I had really deciphered the record, then our enemies would
most certainly take steps in Italy to prevent us discovering the secret
of that spot on the banks of the wild and winding Serchio.
At last the cab came, and, slipping a tip into the constable's palm, I
got in, and with my silk muffler placed at my back to staunch the blood,
drove slowly on through the fog at little more than foot's-pace.
Almost as soon as I entered the hansom I felt my head swimming and a
strange sensation of numbness creeping up my legs. A curious nausea
seized me, too, and although I had fortunately been able to stop the
flow of blood, which tended to prove that the wound was not such a
serious one after all, my hands felt strangely cramped, and in my jaws
was a curious pain very much like the commencement of an attack of
neuralgia.
I felt terribly ill. The cabman, informed by the constable of my
injury, opened the trap-door in the roof to inquire after me, but I
could scarcely articulate a reply. If the wound was only a superficial
one it certainly had a strange effect upon me.
Of the many misty lights at Hyde Park Corner I have a distinct
recollection, but after that my senses seemed bewildered by the fog and
the pain I suffered and I recollect nothing more until, when I opened my
eyes painfully again, I found myself in my own bed, the daylight shining
in at the window and Reggie and our old friend Tom Walker, surgeon, of
Queen Anne Street, standing beside me watching me with a serious gravity
that struck me at the moment as rather humorous.
Nevertheless, I must admit that there was very little humour in the
situation.