“Oh! cheer up, my dear girl, for God’s sake! This is not a funeral.”
I was so utterly taken aback at this remark, unlike in tone and words anything I had heard from him before, that for an instant I almost forgot the terror that in the last few moments had crept like a little cold slimy snake about my heart. Suddenly I burst into a convulsive laugh, so strange in sound that it should surely have betrayed me. But no, he did not perceive the genre of my laughter. He was satisfied that I laughed.
“That’s right!” he approved, whipping up the horses. “And as soon as we get round the Kopje I’ll give you a little whiskey to warm you up. I never drink anything myself, but its a good thing to keep the cold out, and I’ve brought a bottle with me in case of accidents.”
I laughed again then, a merry ringing laugh, extraordinarily like Mrs Rockwood’s in the old Fort George days. He lashed at the horses and we tore through the town in clouds of dust. When he made to pull up, almost opposite the cemetery, I clutched spasmodically at his arm.
“Don’t stop, Maurice. I don’t want whiskey,” I stammered. “I—I cannot even bear the thought of spirits. Please, please drive on.”
“Oh, very well!” he said in an impatient voice. “All right, if you don’t care about it. As I said before, I never drink myself but it is a good thing to keep out the cold.”
He turned and observed me with something like suspicion in his manner, and again the faint sickly odour crept past me.
We were travelling now at a slackened speed. There was time and opportunity for conversation, and driven by the cold little snake that wound itself tighter and tighter round my heart, I hastened to make it.
“What detained you, Maurice? You were away a long time!”
“Some brute had been ransacking my room. I found the place in absolute confusion. As far as I could see at a glance not a thing had been stolen, but everything was all over the place—papers, letters, clothes! I picked up the important things and stuffed them in my pockets, no time to put anything away; besides, all the padlocks had been burst off everything. I think I can guess who it was—a nigger I discharged last week, and to punish him took away from him a charm that some witch doctor had given him. That’s what he was after, no doubt, but he didn’t get it, the brute, for I have it on me, that’s some satisfaction. Good God! what a mess the place was in!”