I told them plainly that the unconscious man was related to me, and that he had received his wound at my hands.

I let them believe it was an accident, and that we came from the coast of France.

They were full of rough sympathy, and when I had seen him put into a comfortable bed, and had dropped some more cognac into him, I started at once for St.
Heliers to find a doctor.
There was no difficulty in that.

I went to the first I was told of, and fell fortunately.

I described the nature of the wound, so far as I knew it, and told him the bullet was still there.