She touched it with her hand, and
seemed surprised.
"You have forgotten, doubtless," he said. "You were rescued from a
band of villains nearly a fortnight since. It seems that one of them
must have fired at you, since there was a slight wound where you just
put your hand, that was doubtless made by a bullet."
Nell Darrel was beginning to remember the scene in the cellar.
"I was rescued, you say? Who were the rescuers?"
"Myself among others. I think you may safely acknowledge that you owe
your life to me," said the New Yorker coolly.
"And Dyke?" questioned Nell with intense eagerness.
"Was saved also, but he is badly hurt, and will be laid up for a month
or more. He is in one of the city hospitals."
"Oh, sir, I am thankful it is no worse. What have they done with the
villains, that sleek one with the red hair and beard?"
"They are all in prison, and will be brought to court as soon as the
witnesses are in a condition to appear against them."
"The witnesses?"
"Dyke Darrel and yourself."
"Can I go to Dyke?"
"Hardly," he answered with a smile. "You could not walk, that is
certain, and I am sure to attempt to ride would prove a dangerous
experiment. I am too deeply interested in your welfare to permit the
attempt.
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