“But how can he possibly be well? His arm must have been nearly cut off. He fell down under the horses’ feet. Oh, you don’t mean—he can’t be——?”
The silence was a sufficient answer, and she turned her face to the wall with a moan. Brendon dead—for whom her kindliest feeling the evening before had been a more or less good-natured contempt—and he had practically given his life for her!
“Look here, Mab,” said Dick earnestly; “it won’t do the poor fellow any good to cry about him just now. What we want is evidence to convict the villains who did it.”
“Have you caught them?” came in a muffled voice from the bed.
“I hope so. Winlock, who went out to track them last night, had his own ideas on the subject, and posted part of his detachment in hiding among the rocks round Dera Gul. A little before dawn three men rode up, coming from Nalapur way—not from our direction—but they and their horses were all dead-beat. Winlock arrested them, feeling pretty certain they were the men he wanted, and had made a long round to avert suspicion before going home. They were Bahram Khan’s servants, sure enough, but he said they had been to Nalapur for him, and he offered no objection to their being arrested. When you are better we must see if you can identify any of them, but now all I want is to know roughly what happened, on account of the—inquiry, which must take place to-day.”
Thus stimulated, Mabel told her tale, helped out by questions from Dick, but breaking down more than once. He took down what she said, and the doctor signed it as a witness, and then they left her to Georgia’s ministrations. Georgia found her patient excited and tearful, and sent Rahah at once to the surgery to make up a composing draught.
“Now, Mab, lie down and try to be quiet,” she said.
“No, I won’t lie down. I can’t sleep,” cried Mabel. “Isn’t it dreadful, my having to identify those men? I can’t bear to think of it. And it brings it all back so vividly—the horrible helplessness—I could do nothing—nothing—to save myself. I think I should have gone mad in another moment if Mr Anstruther had not come up. And now to have to go and look at them in cold blood, and say that I recognise them! Isn’t there any way out of it? Oh, Georgie, can’t Dick make my syce turn Queen’s evidence?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Georgia reluctantly. “The fact is, Mab, your syce didn’t wait to be caught. He went off while we were at the picnic.”
“Oh, well,” said Mabel despairingly, “then I must do it, I suppose. It seems a kind of duty, as poor Mr Brendon was killed in trying to save me, to have the men who killed him punished. But it’s awful to think that three men will be hanged just because I saw their faces! They will be hanged, won’t they?”