“Who’s there?” said the doctor. “Driscol, where are you?”
There was no reply.
“Surely the poor fellow has not been stabbed!” cried the doctor excitedly. “Wait till I fetch a light.”
He hurried back, leaving Murray and Mr Braine trying in vain to penetrate the darkness, so as to make out whether any one was near. Then the doctor’s steps were heard overhead, and his voice came down so distinctly, that both felt how a listener would hear every word.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “Driscol caught some Malay scoundrel prowling about.”
“Where is my husband!” said Mrs Braine.
“Down below with Murray. How is Amy?”
“Calmer now.”
“That’s right. Back directly.”
And then the doctor’s step made the bamboo creak as he crossed the room.