“I had better leave you, sir, had I not?” said George, rising. “You can speak to me further at another time.”
Both the gentlemen turned and looked at the speaker, whose presence perhaps they had forgotten.
“Oh yes,” said Dr Stansfield; “I will bear what you have told me in mind, and speak to you about it in a day or two.”
George bowed, and left the room.
“Who is that lad?” inquired Mr Rogers. “I don’t suppose I can have seen him before; but his face seems strangely familiar to me.”
“No; you can’t have seen him before,” rejoined the Doctor, smiling, “unless it was in a dream. He has never been in South Africa, and you, I think, have never left it since he was a child.”
“No; I have never left the Transvaal, unless to visit Cape Town, or Zululand, or Natal, for twenty years. I wonder you knew me, Stansfield; but, to be sure, you were expecting me before long. But as regards this lad—has he any relatives in the Transvaal?”
“His mother and sister may be in the Transvaal for all I can tell. They left England some years ago, and the place where they are living is quite unknown.”
“What is his name?” asked Mr Rogers.
“Rivers,” answered the headmaster,—“George Rivers.” Mr Rogers shook his head. “I know no person of that name,” he said. “It must be a mere chance resemblance. But I should like to know his history; for some reason or other he interests me.”