His shoulder
hurt him a trifle, but otherwise he felt well, though slightly
weak. The doctor was at his side. It was the same man who
had attended to the body of the late occupant of the house.
"Are you feeling better?" said Doctor Slane, when he saw the
eyes of the detective open. "You had better remain here for a
time. Your men have secured the rascals--all five of them."
"And Twining?" asked Jennings, trying to sit up.
"He is dead--shot through the heart. Clancy killed him."
"Then he'll swing for it," said Jennings in a stronger tone,
"we lose a good man in poor Twining. And Hale?"
"You have wounded him severely in the lungs. I fear he will
die. We have put him in Mrs. Barnes' room on her bed. The
poor woman is wild with grief and terror. I suppose you know
her husband was amongst those rascals."
"I thought as much. His going out was merely a blind. But I
must get up and look at the factory. Send Atkins to me."
Atkins was the man next in command now that the inspector was
dead.
The doctor tried to keep Jennings on his back, but the
detective would not listen. "There is much to do," he said,
rising unsteadily. "You have bound up my shoulder. I won't
lose any more blood."
"You have lost a good deal already."
"It's my business. We detectives have our battles to fight as
well as soldiers have theirs. Give me some brandy and send
Atkins."
Seeing that the man was resolved, Slane gave him the drink and
went out.
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