Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. “Yeah, where the hell were you? My friends would have driven you home when I came home if I could have found you. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm.
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