Would you mind going in and trying
to find Mrs. Logan, Haystoun? I'll carry this chap in. Stop a minute,
though. Perhaps he's got something to say to you."
"Mind the north gate . . . tell Andy I'm all right and make him look
after himself . . . he's overworking . . . if you want to send a
message to the other people you'd better send by Nazri . . . if the
Badas mean business they'll shut up the road you go by. That's all.
Good luck and thanks very much."
Lewis found Mrs. Logan making a final inspection of the supper-room.
She ran to the garden, to find the invalid Holm in Thwaite's arms at the
steps of the verandah. The sick warrior pulled off an imaginary cap and
smiled feebly. "Oh, Mr. Holm, I'm so sorry. Of course we can have
you. I'll put you in the other end of the house where you won't be so
much troubled with the noise. You must have had a dreadful journey."
And so forth, with the easy condolences of a kind woman.
When Thwaite had laid down his burden, he turned to Lewis.
"I wish we had another man, Haystoun. What about your friend Winterham?
One's enough to do your work, but if the thing turns out to be serious,
there ought to be some means of sending word. Andover will want you to
stay, for they are short-handed enough."
"I'll get Winterham to go and wait for me somewhere. If I don't turn up
by a certain time, he can come and look for me.
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