Saunders turned quickly to Mark.
"Forget it, Griffin," he said earnestly. "You saw nothing. Keep out of it. If it were only a common murder, I'd tell you to speak. But this is no common murder. There are international troubles mixed up in it. No one will thank you, and you will only get into difficulties. Why, the biggest men in the country would have a special messenger down here inside of twenty-four hours to keep you silent if they knew who were behind this thing. For God's sake, leave it alone. Let this fellow tell his story." He pointed to the man who was now coming to his senses. "He has it all prepared."
"I'll leave it alone only if the man is dead; but, good God! you can't expect me to leave him here to the mercy of that brood if he's only wounded."
The detective smiled grimly.
"Wounded! Why, Griffin, do you think they would send a man who would miss? Come, look at him."
Mark placed his hand over the young officer's heart. He felt for the pulse, and looked into the face.
"Come, Saunders," he said, "we can do nothing for him."