For some time I could not recollect what had happened.  Then things
came to me slowly.  A bruise on my temple asserted itself.

"Are you better?" asked the curate in a whisper.

At last I answered him.  I sat up.

"Don't move," he said.  "The floor is covered with smashed crockery
from the dresser.  You can't possibly move without making a noise, and
I fancy _they_ are outside."