"
Volterra stared from the cabman to the man in plain clothes, not
understanding. Then it occurred to him that the man in uniform might
be wearing it as a disguise, and that he had to do with a party of
clever thieves, and he felt for a little revolver which he always
carried about with him.
"I know nothing about the matter," he said.
"Excellency," continued the cabman, "the poor gentleman was lying
here, close to the door, bleeding from his head. You see the porter
has washed the stones this morning."
"Go on." Volterra listened attentively.
"A big man who looked more like a workman than a servant came to call
me in the square. When we got here, he unlocked the door himself, and
made me help him to put the gentleman into the cab. It was about half-
past five or a quarter to six, Excellency, and I waited at the
hospital door till eight o'clock, but could not get any money."
"What became of the big man who called you?" asked Volterra. "Why did
he not pay you?"
"He was arrested, Excellency."
"Arrested? Why? For taking a wounded man to the hospital?"
"Yes. You can imagine that I did not wish to be concerned in other
people's troubles, Excellency, nor to be asked questions. So when I
had seen the man and the doorkeepers take the gentleman in, I drove on
about twenty paces, and waited for the man to come out.
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