Captain G. (rising).—Ayah, tell the Doctor.
Ayah (still by bedside, with a shriek).—Ai! Ai! Breaking! My Memsahib! Not getting—not have got—broken fever now—sweat have come! (Fiercely to G.) You go tell Doctor! Oh, my Memsahib!
Doctor (entering hastily).—Come away, Gadsby. (Bends over bed.) Eh? The dev What inspired you to stop the punkah? Get out, man—go away—wait outside! Go! Here Ayah? (Over his shoulder to G.) Mind, I promise nothing.
The dawn breaks as G. stumbles into the garden.
Captain Mafflin (reining up at the gate, on his way to parade, and very soberly). Old man, how goes?
Captain G. (dazed).—I don't quite know. Stay a bit. Have a drink or something. Don't run away. You're just getting amusing. Ha! ha!
Captain M. (aside).—What am I let in for? Gaddy has aged ten years in the night.
Captain G. (slowly, fingering charger's headstall).—Your curb's too loose.
Captain M.—So it is. Put it straight, will you? (Aside.) I shall be late for parade. Poor Gaddy.
Captain G. links and unlinks curb-chain aimlessly, and finally stands staring towards the verandah. The day brightens.
Doctor (knocked out of professional gravity, tramping across flower-beds and shaking G.'s hands).—It's—it's—it's!—Gadsby, there's a fair chance—a dashed fair chance! The flicker y'know. The sweat y'know! I saw how it would be. The punkah, y'know. Deuced clever woman that Ayah of yours. Just at the right time. A dashed good chance! No—you don't go in. We'll pull her through yet. I promise on my reputation—under Providence. Send a man with this note to Bingle. Two heads better than one. 'Specially the Ayah! We'll pull her round. (Retreats hastily to house.)
Captain G. (his head on neck of M.'s charger).—Jack! I
