The doctor looked at it again for a moment, and then nodded. "I'd
better put it back where I found it, I guess," he said, and dropped it
beside the chair.

And then, suddenly, I remembered Swain. I turned to find him still
drooping forward in his chair, apparently half-asleep.

"Doctor," I said, "there is someone else here who is suffering from
shock," and I motioned toward the limp figure. "Or perhaps it's
something worse than that."

The doctor stepped quickly to the chair and looked down at its
occupant. Then he put his hand under Swain's chin, raised his head and
gazed intently into his eyes. Swain returned the gaze, but plainly in
only a half-conscious way.

"It looks like a case of concussion," said the doctor, after a moment.
"The left pupil is enlarged," and he ran his hand rapidly over the
right side of Swain's head. "I thought so," he added. "There's a
considerable swelling. We must get him to bed." Then he noticed the
bandaged wrist. "What's the matter here?" he asked, touching it with
his finger.

"He cut himself on a piece of glass," Godfrey explained. "You'd better
take him over to my place, where he can be quiet."

"I've got my car outside," said the doctor, and together he and I
raised Swain from the chair and led him to it.

He went docilely and without objection, and ten minutes later, was