“Na, not single-handed. Look aboot ye. Ye’ll find them lying all along the trench. But yon’s the mon that really did it.”
Gillies pointed to an abject figure that sat with its grizzled head almost on its knees.
The doctor approached the silent figure.
“My dear sir, whoever you are, the English language fails me.”
“Say it in Greek. My boy says it flows like wine in your house.”
“Why, daddy, his poor back is almost burned to a crisp. Give me your knife. You needn’t be afraid, sir—my father’s knife is always sharp.”
The flesh quivered as Jean deftly cut away the back of the shirt, but the voice was silent. Then with a swift movement she removed the front, leaving the torso bare to the waist.
“You are as brave as a lion, sir, and I know who you are.”
“Do you? Then I know who you are. You are the elderly spinster who wrote me that her age was twenty-one. I came up here to complete a transaction. I want your island.”
“You may have it.”