I muttered some incoherent words, to which she did not attend, but went on hurriedly:
"Rockingham has thrown himself overboard in a hysterical fit, brought on by the heat. The sailors heard the splash—"
"I know they did." This escaped me unawares, and I instantly prevaricated, "I have been told about that."
"Do you know that Herbert is ill?"
I could have conscientiously answered this question affirmatively also. Her sudden sympathy for human misadventure jarred upon me, as it had done once before, when I thought of the ostensible object of the cruise. I said harshly:
"Then Rockingham is at rest, and your brother is on the road to it." It was a brutal speech. It had a very different effect to that which I intended.
"True," she said. "But think of the awful consequences if, now that Rockingham is gone, Herbert should be seriously ill."
"I do think of it," I said stiffly. Indeed, I could hardly keep from adding that I had provided for it.
"You must come to him at once. I have faith in you." This gave me a twinge. "I have no faith in Percival" (the ship's doctor).
"You are nursing your brother?" I said with assumed carelessness.