"What am I going to do with it?" she exclaimed, looking hopelessly at her husband's property as it stood rocking before her.
"The first thing is to get it off the place," replied Scarsdale, assuming a cheerfulness which he did not feel. "We may find its keepers at the lodge, and we can make our plans as we walk along."
"Come on, Jehoshaphat, or whatever you may happen to be called!" he cried, addressing the elephant, and at the same time grasping the rope bridle which still dangled from its neck; and the beast, recognising a kindred spirit speaking to him in his native tongue, followed docilely where he led.
"I think," continued Scarsdale, as they trudged slowly across the park, "that our best course will be to take the elephant to Christchurch. Indeed, we ought to have gone there in the first instance."
"What do you expect to gain by that?" she asked quickly, ready in this strange dilemma to catch at any straw which gave opportunity of escape.
"Why, your husband's consulate is situated there, and that is his local habitation in this country, where he is certain to turn up sooner or later, and where, if the laws of his consular service are anything like ours, he would be obliged to report every few days."
"You propose to go there and await his return?"
"Yes," he said. "I don't see that we can do better. Ten to one your husband and my wife will hear of our affair at Winchester, and may be on their way there now to hunt us up; while if we attempted to follow them, it is more than likely that they would return here. I, for one, am about tired of chasing myself around the country; as a steady occupation it is beginning to pall."
"There is a group of men at the lodge," she said, as they drew near the gates with the elephant in tow.
"Then let us hope that there are some station people among them, and that we can arrange for Jehoshaphat's transportation without loss of time," replied Scarsdale.