“Child,” he said quickly, “go back—go back to the house. I will come to you in a few minutes.”
“What is the matter, papa?” she asked. “No one is hurt?—Major Crawford is not hurt?”
“No, no, he is here; but go, Daireen—go at once.”
She turned and went up the avenue without a word. But she saw that Oswin was not looking at her—that he was grasping the rail of the bridge while he gazed to where the horse with its burden stood a few yards away among the aloes.
“I am glad you chance to be here, Markham,” said Colonel Gerald hurriedly. “Something has happened—that man Despard——”
“Not dead—not murdered!” gasped Oswin, clutching the rail with both hands.
“Murdered? no; how could he be murdered? he must have fallen from his horse among the trees.”
“And he is dead—he is dead?”
“Calm yourself, Markham,” said the colonel; “he is not dead.”
“Not in that sense, my boy,” laughed Major Crawford. “By gad, if we could leave the brute up to the neck in the river here for a few hours I fancy he would be treated properly. Hold him steady, Markham.”