"There's a mistake, or else-- It doesn't matter now, at any rate. The thing is done."
But Sonny baba did not hear the latter words; he was beside the mule, fumbling hastily in the travelling dispensary, of which the old man had been so proud, for the medicine chest. His hands trembled as he brought it back; and Dr. Taylor, his face unseen, yet with its keenness shown in every movement of the capable hands busy over the morphia, heard an odd sound--something between a gasp and a cry--behind him. Then some one came and knelt down at the other side of the bed.
"Dhurm Singh!"
But there was no answer.
"Dhurm Singh, you can tell them it was dhurm nâl, and that I killed you."
* * * * *
"Killed him--fudge! Though, upon my soul, it would serve you right if you had. So the old sinner changed the pills, and it wasn't the ipec. after all. Most reprehensible practice, and, upon my soul, it would serve him right if he did die. Now--don't be a fool, man! I tell you he shan't die--I won't let him die. Besides, he can't die--it's impossible--absolutely impossible."
Despite his despair and dejection, the young man gave a wan smile at the other's vehemence.
"And why?"
"Because of you, naturally. You don't suppose that you're fit to be trusted alone with a medicine chest, do you? Boota Mull, if you don't hurry up with that turpentine and the brandy mixture I'll report you. So it wasn't the ipec. after all! I'm glad of that."