His throat had swollen and his eyes were hideously bloodshot.

Trent, who had seen men before in dire straits, fed him from a spoon and forced brandy between his lips.

Certainly, at the time, he never stopped to consider that he was helping back to life the man who in all the world was most likely to do him ill.
"Better ?" he asked presently.
"Much.

What luck to find you.

What are you after--gold ?" Trent shook his head.
"Not at present.