The Spaniard rose, and with folded hands and bent head stood waiting.
“Get ready like a sensible fellow, and let us have no more of this foolery. There, there, I understand. You are exciting yourself for nothing.”
“Then, I am to go, senor?”
“Certainly.”
Early the next morning Baptisto entered the carriage with his master, and was driven to the railway station, some seven miles away. As they went along, Haldane noticed that the man looked very ill, and that from time to time he put his hand to his head as if in pain. At the railway station, while they were waiting for the train, matters looked most serious. Suddenly the Spaniard fell forward on the platform as if in strong convulsions, his eyes starting out of his head, his mouth foaming. They sprinkled water on his face, chafed his hands, and with some difficulty brought him round.
“The devil!” muttered Haldane to himself. “It looks like epilepsy!” Baptisto was placed on a seat, and lay back ghastly pale, as if utterly exhausted.
“Are you better now?” asked Haldane, bending over him.
“A little better, senor.”
But seeing him so utterly helpless, and likely to have other seizure, Haldane rapidly calculated in his own mind the inexpediency of taking him away on a long railway journey. After all, the poor fellow had not exaggerated his condition, when he had pleaded illness as an excuse for remaining at home.
“After all,” said Haldane, “I think you will have to remain behind.”