“You went away from here in something of a hurry, did you not, Markham?”
Oswin laughed as he threw himself into a chair.
“Yes, something of a hurry. My friend is—let us say, eccentric. We left without going to bed the night before last. Never mind, Harwood, old fellow; he is gone, and here I am now, ready for anything you propose—an excursion across the Tugela or up to the Transvaal—anywhere—anywhere—I'm free now and myself again.”
“Free?” said Harwood curiously. “What do you mean by free?”
Oswin looked at him mutely for a moment, then he laughed, saying:
“Free—yes, free from that wretched dramatic affair. Thank Heaven, it's off my mind!”
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Horatio. My lord, the King your father.