Ernest followed his example, and, when he had gone a few yards, glanced round at the hateful spot. There stood Captain Justice in the doorway of the hut, looking much depressed, and there, a few yards to the left, was the impress in the sand that marked where his cousin had fallen. He never saw either the man or the place again.
“Kershaw,” said Mr. Alston, “what do you propose doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you must think; remember you are in an awkward fix. You know by English law duelling is murder; and now I come to think of it, I expect that this place is subject to the English law in criminal matters, or at least that the law is identical.”
“I think I had better give myself up, like Captain Justice.”
“Nonsense. You must hide away somewhere for a year or two till the row blows over.”
“Where am I to hide?”
“Have you any money, or can you get any?”
“Yes, I have nearly two hundred and fifty pounds on me now.”
“My word, that is fortunate! Well, now, what I have to suggest is, that you should assume a false name, and sail for South Africa with me. I am going up-country on a shooting expedition, outside British territory, so there will be little fear of your being caught and extradited. Then, in a year or so, when the affair is forgotten, you can come back to England. What do you say to that?”