"I'm not, I'll take him to the hotel, and get him away to-morrow or the day after. You shan't see him again, I give you my word."
Richard rose from the wall on which he was sitting.
"On that understanding then," he said, "I'll send a cart, but don't ask me to touch the fellow, because I won't. You and the boy can lift him, I suppose, or shall I send a man?"
"The boy and I can manage all right; he's light enough, poor devil. Please be quick, Selbourne."
The latter walked slowly away, leaving Dr. Lees looking down on the still unconscious figure in his arms.
"Good thing I was watching you, my friend," he muttered. "I knew when I saw you at the funeral you couldn't last much longer. I wonder what it all means, and what you saw just now? for you did see something, I know that, and probably will to the end of your days. You'll be an interesting study in the future, Colonel Graeme, or I'm much mistaken. 'Stara,' you called, and that was her name, poor girl; she poisons herself, and my friend Dick, the most amiable fellow I know, hates you, hates you so much that he'd leave you here to die. For you would die of exposure if I left you now; as it is, you'll be pretty bad for a day or two. Still, I think I've got the story all right; it's an old enough one, God knows. Oh yes, you're a bad lot, Colonel, right enough, but it's possible you're not quite so much to blame as they think. I doubt if you're quite ... responsible; not mad—I'm sure of that—but not quite responsible. Ah, the cart at last! Hi, you, this way; fasten the mules to the wall here, then come and help lift the Baas. Easy, that's right now." Together they lifted the light figure into the Cape cart, and, Lees still holding it in his arms, drove away to the Spring Bok Hotel, Duikerport, the mules shying and plunging at the lightning playing on the rocks around.
CHAPTER XXIII
"Oh, do hurry up, for heaven's sake, Graves; it's past three, and we're playing in the second chukker."
"Don't fidget me, but come in and sit down. Throw that dog out of the chair;" whereupon Captain Annesley, white-breeched and brown-booted, entered his friend's room, and having lifted the sleeping dachshund, and placed him carefully on his knee, sat down, his eyes resting morosely on the scantily-clad figure before him.
"We'll be late," he observed.