“I’ll not fail. Poor girl! Oh, Koomadhi, her heart will be broken—her heart will be broken!”
The Commissioner went away, looking at least ten years older than when he had last been seen by Dr Koomadhi.
The Doctor watched him stumbling down the pathway: then he laughed and opened a bottle of champagne, which he drank at a gulp—it was only when he was alone that he allowed himself the luxury of drinking champagne in gulps.
Shortly before midnight he paid a visit to the barracks of the Houssas, and found that the officer who was on the sick list was very much better. Returning by the side of the jungle, he heard the sound of steps and a laugh behind him. It might have been the laugh of a man, but the steps were not those of a man.
He looked round.
A shambling creature was following him—a creature with a hairy face and matted locks—a creature whose eyes gleamed wildly in the moonlight.
“How the mischief can you walk so fast along a path like this?” came the voice of Major Minton from the hairy jaws of the Thing.
“I’m not walking so fast, after all,” said the Doctor. He had not given the least start on coming face to face with the Thing.
“I don’t care much about walking on roads; but I’ll back myself to cross a forest without leaving the trees,” said the Thing. “That would beat you, Koomadhi. Oh, by the way——” Here he emitted some guttural sounds.
The simian language was recognised by the Doctor, and replied to with a smile, and for some time the two exchanged remarks. The Doctor was the first to break down.