Digital primer

"Who was it?" he asked, weighing the knife in his palm and examining it as
closely as he could without the aid of light.
There was no reply. Directly her cloak was freed, the girl had moved
hastily away to the body over which Lanyard had stumbled. He heard an
imploring whisper--"Please!"--and looked up to see her on her knees.
"Who, then, is this?" he demanded, joining her.
"Lionel--Lieutenant Thackeray. Please--O please!--tell me he is not dead."
Her voice broke; he saw her slender body convulsed with racking emotions.
Kneeling, Lanyard made a hasty and superficial examination, necessarily no
more under the conditions.
"His heart beats," he announced--"he breathes. I do not think him seriously
injured." He made as if to get up. "I will get a light--a flash-lamp from
my stateroom--or, better still, the ship's surgeon--"
Her hand fell upon his arm. "Please, no! Not that--not now. Later, if
necessary; but now--surely, you can help me carry him to his stateroom."
"You know the number?"
"It's close by--30.


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