"Not he," said Mr. Cochrane; "at least he hasn't arrived. Perhaps he had to come round by somewhere else—Gairloch or one of those places. Come in, won't you, and wait for him, if you want to see him."
"Afraid I can't do that," Mr. Orban said, speaking low so that only Mr. Cochrane, now by his horse's head, should hear. "Fact is, I'm rather worried. Bob's horse went lame, and he borrowed one of mine. He should have been here at about nine, but the horse—this one Eustace is on—appeared back at my place an hour ago."
Mr. Cochrane stared blankly.
"Without Bob?" he questioned in a dazed way.
"Yes. Don't say anything about it to your wife—it might frighten her unnecessarily," Mr. Orban said. "He may have gone round by Gairloch, and the beast ran away from there. We can just say I came over on business, and then you had better come right off with me to see if Bob is all right."
"I'll do that," said the Scotsman, and hurried off to get his horse.
"Now look here, Eustace," Mr. Orban said, "I'm going to leave you here for to-night, whatever happens. Mother would not thank me for bringing you through that mangrove swamp and risking fever. But you'll have to keep a quiet tongue in your head and say nothing about Bob's leaving our house to-day. If you say nothing, Mrs. Cochrane and Trix will only fancy he is staying with us."
"O father," Eustace said pleadingly, "need I stay really?"
The prospect frightened him, for he was terrified lest he should let the cat out of the bag. Keeping a secret was not one of his accomplishments.
"Yes, my lad," was the answer, however; "there is to be no question about it, and you are to behave like a man. Anxiety is much worse to bear than any bodily hurt, and a man should protect a woman from it as he would save her from being tortured. Do you understand?"