"You have nothing to fear," said he. "I don't intend to harm you. I have only one thing to say: if you cry out, or call for assistance, I'll not hesitate to shoot. On the other hand, if you lie quiet and silent, I promise, on my word of honour, that you have nothing whatsoever to fear. I merely wish to ask you a few questions. You need not answer them unless you wish to. Now, may I take my hand from your mouth?"
De Costa nodded his head, and Crouch drew away his hand. The half-caste lay quite still. It was obvious that he had been frightened out of his life, which had served to some extent to heighten the fever which so raged within him.
"Come," said Crouch; "I'll doctor you. Your nerves are all shaken. Have you any bromide?"
"Yes," said de Costa; "over there."
He pointed in the direction of a shelf upon the wall, which had been constructed of a piece of a packing-case. On this shelf was a multitude of bottles. Crouch examined these, and at last laid hands upon one containing a colourless fluid, like water, and handed it to the patient to drink. De Costa drained it at a gulp, and then sank back with a sigh of relief.
Crouch felt his pulse.
"You're weak," said he, "terribly weak. If you don't get out of this country soon you'll die. Do you know that?"
"I do," said de Costa; "I think of it every day."
"You don't wish to die?" said Crouch.
"I wish to live."