"I thought so. I thought so. And I sent him back for confirmatory
evidence. But the rogue has never brought it." He let his head drop on
his rude pillow heavily. "Never, never brought it!"
I gazed at him, full of horror. The man was too ill to hear me, too ill
to reason, too ill to recognise the meaning of his own words, almost.
Otherwise, perhaps, he would hardly have expressed himself quite so
frankly. Though to be sure he had said nothing to criminate himself in
any way; his action might have been due to anxiety for our safety.
I fixed my glance on him long and dubiously. What ought I to do next?
As for Sebastian, he lay with his eyes closed, half oblivious of my
presence. The fever had gripped him hard. He shivered, and looked
helpless as a child. In such circumstances, the instincts of my
profession rose imperative within me. I could not nurse a case properly
in this wretched hut. The one thing to be done was to carry the patient
down to our camp in the valley. There, at least, we had air and pure
running water.
I asked a few questions from the retired gentleman as to the possibility
of obtaining sufficient bearers in the village.
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