Rather to the general surprise, the Byronic lounger, Paul Tarrant, came forward to help him.
“He’d better be carried up into the air,” he said. “I suppose there’s just a chance for him.”
“He isn’t dead,” said Father Brown in a low voice, “but I think it’s pretty bad; you aren’t a doctor by any chance?”
“No; but I’ve had to pick up a good many things in my time,” said the other. “But never mind about me just now. My real profession would probably surprise you.”
“I don’t think so,” replied Father Brown, with a slight smile. “I thought of it about halfway through the voyage. You are a detective shadowing somebody. Well, the cross is safe from thieves now, anyhow.”
While they were speaking Tarrant had lifted the frail figure of the fallen man with easy strength and dexterity and was caref
