“Gather yourself together, I beg you, for a moment. I wish to ask one question. Shall I ever——”
“How shall I stop de bleeding from the witals of my dear wife?—who will plug up the hole in her?”
Ernest gazed at the man. Was he putting all this on?—or was he really mad? For the life of him he could not tell.
Taking out a sovereign, he gave it to him.
“There is money to doctor Wilhelmina with,” he said. “Would you like to sleep here?—I can give you a blanket.”
The old man took the money without hesitation, and thanked Ernest for it, but said he must go on at once.
“Where are you going to?” asked Jeremy, who had been watching him with great curiosity, but had not understood that part of the conversation which had been carried on in German.
Hans turned upon him with a quick look of suspicion.
“Rustenburg” (Anglicè;, the town of rest), he answered.
“Indeed! the road is bad, and it is far to travel.”