“Like rats in a trap!” said Mrs. Lewin absently, her mind with Halton’s simile.
“Exactly. Churton said he was going to shoot on the Tableland, but young Rennie, who went out there some days later, found him starting for Africa Point and Sand Bay. He will come home by Hashish Valley, and I hope he won’t come in for the trouble there!”
“There is no further disturbance, is there? Mr. Halton told me positively that he would leave in the next mail. But that may be desperation!”
“Poor man! I don’t wonder. He has been kept hanging about on the chance of a rising, when he might just as well have gone by the same boat as Mrs. Ritchie Stern. Look how tamely the snuff-coloured people took the crop-burning, after all!”
“Rather ominously so, I thought. I feel somehow as if we were not through yet.”
“Well, what there was to see, you saw! I can’t think how you lived through that night at Government House, Chum. I expected to see your hair grey next morning.”
“It was really not so terrifying as it sounded afterwards. Mr. Gregory was so cool too—he was almost insolent to the natives.”
“I suppose you expected to find Captain Lewin there. You have not heard anything of him, by the way—I mean cabled through from Capetown, for instance—have you?”
“Not a word. All I know is that the boat reached Port Cecil, and it was also confirmed that his regiment was up there.”
“So he will have his friends about him, anyway. It is a month since he left, isn’t it? Aren’t you very anxious?”