Unity uttered a little cry as she saw him, but checked it quickly, and threw herself on her knees by his side.
“Thank God you’re alive!”
He put his hand on her head.
“I’m all right,” he said faintly; “but you shouldn’t have come. That’s why I didn’t go straight home. I didn’t want to frighten you. I’m a ghastly sight, and I should have scared your aunt out of her wits.”
“But how, in Heaven’s name, man,” said Herold, “did you get into this state?”
“Something hit me over the head, and I spent the night in rain and sea-water on the rocks.”
“On the rocks? Where? At Southcliff?”
“Yes,” said John, “at Southcliff. I was a fool to go down, but I’ve been a fool all my life, so a bit more folly doesn’t matter.” He closed his eyes. “Give me a drink, Wallie—some brandy.”
Herold went into the dining-room, which adjoined the library, and returned with decanter, syphon, and glasses. He poured out a brandy and soda for John and watched him drink it; then he realized that he, too, would be the better for stimulant. With an abstemious man’s idea of taking brandy as medicine, he poured out for himself an extravagant dose, mixed a little soda-water with it, and gulped it down.
“That’ll do me good,” said John; but on saying it he fell to shivering, despite the heat of the summer afternoon.