“Yes; that’s the comical part of it. He’s a bit mixed, and in his present state I let him think what he likes, so long as it is not likely to do him any harm.”
“But really, Doctor Emden, I fail to follow your reasoning,” said the colonel rather stiffly.
“Never mind, colonel; leave it. I don’t follow all your military manoeuvres, so I leave them to you. Let the cobbler stick to his last. There, man, don’t look mystified. Let me explain. Roby had bad concussion of the brain from that first shot. There was no fracture, but the bone was, so to speak, a little dented down, and the consequence was that, though he rapidly recovered his health bodily, he did not get his mental balance quite right at the same time.”
“Then you think that charge of his against Lennox was a trifling aberration that’s now over. I hope you are right, doctor; but—”
“But me no buts,” said the doctor. “I stake my reputation upon it. Surely, man, you can see the proof? The poor fellow showed you that he has not the slightest recollection now of what has been going on since the expedition to the laager.”
“To be sure,” said the major. “I see now. That explains it. He talked as if he thought this was the result of being shot down there.”
“To be sure he does. He thinks, too, that Edwards is wounded from a skirmish with the Boers during the retreat.”
“Then there was no nonsense, no unreality, in his display of interest in poor Lennox?”
“Not a bit. He’s delighted with the poor fellow’s gallantry, and talks to me about how much he owes him.”
“But his charge of cowardice?”