‘Excellently. Can you not put me on some work if it is only to copy telegraphic despatches? But, by the way, how is Blake?’
‘The doctor is still with him,’ said Mr. Macrae; ‘a case of concussion of the brain, he says it is. But you go out and take the air, you must be careful of yourself.’
Bude remained with the millionaire, Merton sauntered out to look at the river: running water drew him like a magnet. By the side of the stream, on a woodland path, he met Lady Bude. She took his hand silently in her right, and patted it with her left. Merton turned his head away.
‘What can I say to you?’ she asked. ‘Oh, this is too horrible, too cruel.’
‘If I had listened to you and not irritated her I might have been with her, not Blake,’ said Merton, with keen self-respect.
‘I don’t quite see that you would be any the better for concussion of the brain,’ said Lady Bude, smiling. ‘Oh, Mr. Merton, you must find her, I know how you have worked already. You must rescue her. Consider, this is your chance, this is your opportunity to do something great. Take courage!’
Merton answered, with a rather watery smile, ‘If I had Logan with me.’
‘With or without Lord Fastcastle, you must do it!’ said Lady Bude.
They saw Mr. Macrae approaching them deep in thought and advanced to meet him.
‘Mr. Macrae,’ asked Lady Bude suddenly, ‘have you had Donald with you long?’