I saw his hand, all covered with blood.

He's had a good night for sure!" But they ignored her.

And Beresford flung open the door.
Just what they had expected, what figure of horror or of fear they waited for, no one can say.

But there was no horror and no fear; only unutterable amazement as an unknown man, in torn and muddied garments, with a streak of dried blood seaming his forehead like a scar, fell through the open doorway into Beresford's arms.
"Good God!" muttered Beresford, dropping his revolver to catch the strange burden.

For a moment the Unknown lay in his arms like a corpse.