“Those two young scoundrels of gipsies,” said Vane quickly. Then, as he realised what he had said, he threw his arms out over the sheet. “Why, that’s what I’ve been trying to think of for days, and now it’s come. Have they caught them?”
“What for?” said Macey, wonderingly.
“For knocking me about as they did. They ought to be punished; I’ve been very ill, haven’t I?”
“Awful,” said Macey, quickly. “But, I say, was it those two chaps?”
Vane looked at him half wonderingly.
“Yes, of course,” he said. “I remember it all now. It’s just as if a cloud had gone away from the back of my head, and I could see clearly right back now.”
“Why did they do it?” cried Macey, speaking out, but feeling dubious, for Vane’s manner was rather strange, and he might still be wandering.
“I don’t know,” said Vane; “I was getting truffles for uncle when they came along, and it was fists against sticks. They won, I suppose.”
“Well, rather so I think,” said Macey, edging toward the door.
“Don’t go, old chap. You’ve only just come.”