"OH!" she whispered meaningly, stepping back to let me approach. I
had no time to notice then that she was one of those largely built
women, with perfect skin and fair hair, who make one think of what
England must have been before Gallic blood got to be so widely
disseminated in the race.

"Please pull down that mat from the window," I said, indicating a
temporary blind which I had put up.

She did so promptly, and returned to the bedside, falling into
position as it were, awaiting my orders.

I bent over the bed, and I must confess that what I saw there gave
me a thrill of horror which will come again at times so long as I
live.

I made a sign to Sister to continue her task of sponging away the
mud, of which one ingredient was sand.

"Both eyes," she whispered, "are destroyed."

"Not the top of the skull," I said; "you must not touch that."

For we both knew that our task was without hope.

As I have said, I knew something of Fitz-Warrener's people, and I
could not help lingering there, where I could do no good, when I
knew that I was wanted elsewhere.