Moving quietly to his side, the girl took his other hand and held it tight. …
Presently Lanyard shook himself impatiently and lifted his head again.
"Sorry," he said, apologetic—"but your generosity—when I looked for nothing better than arrest—was a bit too much for my nerves!"
"Nonsense!" the Englishman commented with brusque good-humour. "We're all upset. A drop of brandy will do us no end of good."
Unbuttoning his leather surtout, he produced a flask from an inner pocket, filled its metal cup, and offered it to the girl.
"You first, if you please, Miss Shannon. No—I insist. You positively need it."
She allowed herself to be persuaded, drank, coughed, gasped, and returned the cup, which Wertheimer promptly refilled and passed to Lanyard.
The raw spirits stung like fire, but proved an instant aid to the badly jangled nerves of the adventurer. In another moment he was much more himself.
Drinking in turn, Wertheimer put away the flask. "That's better!" he commented. "Now I'll be able to cut along with this blessed machine without fretting over the fate of Ekstrom. But till now I haven't been able to forget—"
He paused and drew a hand across his eyes.
"It was, then, Ekstrom—you think?" Lanyard demanded.
"Unquestionably! De Morbihan had learned—I know
