"You will find my father greatly changed, Dr. Pinsent."
"Indeed."
"He seems to be quite strong, but he has aged notably, and he will hardly condescend to converse with anyone, even me. Moreover, the subject of Ptahmes is tabooed. The very name enrages him. Dr. Belleville has forbidden it to be mentioned in his hearing."
"Humph!" said I. "If my donkey were alive I should go to Kwansu straight. But as it is I shall have to trespass for a stretch on your preserves at Rakh. I hate it, too, for your father has broken faith with me."
"Ah!" cried the girl. "He promised that you should help him open the tomb."
"Exactly."
"You must not be hard on him. I believe that he is not quite himself."
"Oh! I am accustomed to that sort of treatment from the Ottleys," I replied.
It was brutal beyond question, but I was past reckoning on niceties with rage. Captain Weldon turned scarlet and raised his whip. "Dr. Pinsent," he cried, "you forget yourself. For two pins——" then he stopped—having met my eyes. I laughed in his face. "Why not?" I queried jibingly. "It would be not only chivalrous—a lady looking on—but safe. Have you ever seen a St. Bernard hurt a spaniel?"
He went deathly and slashed me with his whip. Poor boy. I never blamed him. I'd have done the same myself. As for me, the blow descended and cooled my beastly temper, which was an unmitigated blessing. I took his whip away and gave it back to him. Then I laughed out, tickled at the humour of the situation, though it only told against myself. "I had intended accepting your offer of your mule for my belongings," I chuckled. "You haven't offered him, but that's a detail. And now I can't." I shook with laughter.