"He--he--push--pushed me in," gasped the choking Mr. Turnbull.

Nobody paid any attention to him; even Venia, seeing that he was safe,
was on her knees by the side of the unconscious Blundell.

"He--he's shamming," bawled the neglected Mr. Turnbull.

"Shame!" said somebody, without even looking round.

"He pushed me in," repeated Mr. Turnbull. "He pushed me in."

"Oh, father," said Venia, with a scandalised glance at him, "how can
you?"

"Shame!" said the bystanders, briefly, as they, watched anxiously for
signs of returning life on the part of Mr. Blundell. He lay still with
his eyes closed, but his hearing was still acute, and the sounds of a
rapidly approaching barrel trundled by a breathless Samaritan did him
more good than anything.

"Good-bye, Venia," he said, in a faint voice; "good-bye."

Miss Turnbull sobbed and took his hand.

"He's shamming," roared Mr. Turnbull, incensed beyond measure at the
faithful manner in which Blundell was carrying out his instructions. "He
pushed me in."

There was an angry murmur from the bystanders. "Be reasonable, Mr.
Turnbull," said the sergeant, somewhat sharply.