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22 The family, in various stages of disarray, had appeared at the top of the staircase and were demanding in frightened accents what had happened, but Titheredge had ears for none of them as they rushed down and crowded about. Lorne was breathing stertorously, and under the shock of icy water dashed into his face he opened his eyes at last.

"I say, what—" The sentence ended in a groan as he strove to sit up and fell back again. "My arm!"

Titheredge noticed then that his left arm was crumpled and twisted under him, and when they lifted him and bore him to the couch it swung limp and useless at his side.

He opened his eyes once more as the attorney bent over him and the others gathered about.

"The stairs," he whispered faintly. "The top one collapsed as I pressed my weight on it. You remember the noise I heard last night?"

Titheredge nodded briefly, then turned to the others.

"Move back, please, all of you, and give him air." As they obeyed he asked: "Feel better now, Dick?"

"Yes. My side hurts a little when I breathe, and that arm's broken, I think; but I'm lucky not to have been killed." In a whisper once more he added: "I'm all right. Don't wait here a minute longer. Go and get your Barry Odell."