The hurried, creaking steps of his servant coming through the drawing room brought him to his senses.

He made an effort at thought, and was aware that he was on the floor; and seeing blood on the tiger-skin rug and on his arm, he knew he had shot himself.

"Idiotic! Missed!" he said, fumbling after the revolver.

The revolver was close beside him--he sought further off.

Still feeling for it, he stretched out to the other side, and not being strong enough to keep his balance, fell over, streaming with blood.