“ ‘No one knows better than you,’ he said gravely, ‘my chance of returning. And when I don’t come back—she’ll forget me.’ I saw his hands clench at his side. ‘But if I tell her now—why, she’ll want me to stop in England—to go to specialists—to eke out life to the full two or three years. It’ll be hell—hell! Hell for both of us. Every day she’ll be wondering if she is going to hear I’m dead; it’ll ruin her life. Whereas Africa, if she doesn’t know about my heart, will be sudden. You see, Doctor, she is the only one to be considered—the only one.’
“I drew a deep breath; truly Joe Maitland had been right. This man was white clean through. And then he gave a little choking gasp, and, turning round, I saw the girl coming towards us across the hall.
“ ‘I didn’t know you’d come, old man,’ I heard her say, and then I moved away and left them. It was one of those occasions when you say it’s the smoke that has got into your eyes—and you lie.”
For a while the Doctor was silent; then he gave a short laugh.
“They sat next to one another at dinner, opposite me, and I’m afraid my partner must have thought I was a little wanting in intellect. They were such a perfectly ideal couple; and I noticed old Joe Maitland watching them every now and then. But gradually, as the meal progressed, a puzzled look began to creep into the girl’s eyes, and once she bit her lip suddenly and turned abruptly to the man on her other side. It was then that Digby looked across the table at me, and in that moment I realised that he was right. For him to remain in England would be impossible for both of them; the end, quick and sudden in an African jungle—if he ever got as far—was the only way out.
“ ‘My God! Doctor,’ he said as he came round and sat down next to me after the ladies had gone, ‘I knew I was a fool to come, but I didn’t think it was going to be as bad as this.’
“ ‘When are you going to start?’ I asked.
“ ‘As soon as I can get things fixed up at home, here, and make some sort of arrangements for carriers and people the other end. One must act, I suppose, even though it’s the last appearance.’ He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘I’ve always wanted to go South from Khartoum—I wonder how far I’ll get.’ Then he began to drum on the table with his fingers. ‘And what I wonder still more,’ he went on slowly, ‘is how in Heaven’s name I’ll get through this evening. You see, though I didn’t actually propose in so many words before I came to see you, I’d—I’d let things drift to such a position that a proposal was hardly necessary. That’s the devil of it. . . . She knows I worship the ground she walks on—and I know she cares too.’
“ ‘How long are you going to stop here?’ I asked.
“ ‘I accepted for the week-end,’ he said abruptly. ‘I shall go first thing to-morrow. I can’t stand it.’