The shot passed
through the middle of the foot and pierced the floor. Asop gave a short
terrified bark.
A little after there came a knock at the door.
It was the Doctor.
"Sorry to disturb you," he began. "You went off so suddenly, I thought
it might do no harm if we had a little talk together. Smell of powder,
isn't there...?"
He was perfectly sober. "Did you see Edwarda? Did you get your stick?"
I asked.
"I found my stick. But Edwarda had gone to bed... What's that? Heavens,
man, you're bleeding!"
"No, nothing to speak of. I was just putting the gun away, and it went
off; it's nothing. Devil take you, am I obliged to sit here and give you
all sorts of information about that...? You found your stick?"
But he did not heed my words; he was staring at my torn boot and the
trickle of blood. With a quick movement he laid down his stick and took
off his gloves.
"Sit still--I must get that boot off. I _thought_ it was a shot I
heard."
XVIII
How I repented of it afterward--that business with the gun. It was a mad
thing to do. It was not worth while any way, and it served no purpose,
only kept me tied down to the hut for weeks. I remember distinctly even
now all the discomfort and annoyance it caused; my washerwoman had to
come every day and stay there nearly all the time, making purchases of
food, looking after my housekeeping, for several weeks.
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