"You want to know about it, do you? All right, you shall. I'll tell you as I told old Peter here. Three weeks ago in Fort Hussein I——"
"I know you did, old boy, you were quite right too; it was my fault for lending you an infernal one-eyed brute. Can't you see the man's had concussion, and don't know what he's saying?" he continued, addressing the crowd.
"One-eyed," said a voice, "that accounts for it then."
"That accounts for it, as you say. Thank God, here's a doctor at last. It's O'Hagan, Sarel."
"Bad?"
"Neck broken, I think."
"Good God! and what about Graeme there? He looks pretty queer."
"I'm not queer at all. I'm perfectly clear. I'll tell you how it happened. It's a long story, but——"
"Graeme, your wife's waiting for you. She's anxious naturally, and I promised her I'd bring you back at once, you can tell me all about it as we go, I'd like to hear. Out of the way, please," to the crowd, who obediently formed a lane, and still holding him firmly by the arm Peter hurried Graeme away to where Lucy was standing.
"Is the buggy ready, Mrs. Graeme?" he said, not looking at her. "Yes, there it is; well, get him home as quickly as possible. Keep him with you, don't let him speak to anyone. He's a bit light-headed, you see," he explained, looking away, "don't quite know what he's saying; been talking awful rot."