"I won't—never."
Mrs. Jakes would not face her. She stood looking into the blackness, tense with enmity.
"Well, I hope you will," said Margaret.
They heard grunts from the doctor and then quavering speech and one rich oath, and a noise of spitting. The Kafir approached them noiselessly from behind and paused at Margaret's side.
"That's done the trick," he said; "and he doesn't even know who gave him the draft. You 'll go in now?"
"Yes," said Margaret. "You have been good, though."
Mrs. Jakes had returned to her husband; they were for the moment alone.
"I didn't mean to force your hand," he whispered. "But I had to. A doctor has duties."
She gave him her hand. "There was something I wanted to tell you, but there 's no time to explain now. Did you know you were wanted by the police?"
"Bless you, yes." He smiled with a white flash of teeth. "Were you going to warn me? How kind! And now, in you go, and good night."