Twice during the day he had washed the wounds with water secured from the river, binding the arm with a handkerchief; but he noted with a scowl that the arm was swollen and the wound inflamed.

He finally rewound the bandage, tieing the ends securely.

Then he stood erect beside the desk, listening and undecided.
No sound reached his ears.

The Claytons, he assured himself, must have retired.
He walked over to the sofa and sat upon it, frowning.

He was hungry, having been without food since morning, and he found himself wondering if he might not find food in the kitchen.