“Write it?” said Mr Dawes, and Brood nodded his head slowly, significantly.
“Oh, Jim, you—you mustn't do that!” groaned Mr Dawes, appalled. “You ain't such a coward as to do that!”
“There is one bullet left in that revolver. Ranjab advised me to save it—for myself. He's a thoughtful fellow,” said Brood.
“Jim,” said Mr Riggs, squaring himself, “it's too bad that you didn't hit what you shot at.”
Mr Dawes turned on him in a flash. “None o' that, Joe,” he said, and this time he was very much in earnest. “She's all right. You'll all find out she's all right. I tell you a woman can't nurse a feller back from the edge of the grave, yes, from the very bottom of it almost, and not betray her true nature to that same feller in more———”
“Jim,” interrupted Mr Riggs, ignoring his comrade's defence, “I see she's going to nurse Freddy. Well, sir, if I was you, I'd———”
Brood stopped him with an impatient gesture.
“I must ask you not to discuss Mrs Brood.”
“I was just going to say, Jim, that if I was you I'd thank the Lord that she's going to do it,” substituted Mr Riggs somewhat hastily. “She's a wonderful nurse. She told me a bit ago that she was going to save his life in spite of the doctor.”
“What does Dr Hodder say?” demanded Brood, pausing in his restless pacing of the floor.