Part 61 (2/2)
”Not to dress, sir,” whispered West excitedly; ”but I must have my jacket. It is important!”
”Why?” said the surgeon, laying his hand upon the young man's brow soothingly.
”I was bringing on a despatch from Mafeking when I was shot down, sir,”
whispered West excitedly.
”It was sewn up for safety in the breast.”
”Indeed?” said the doctor, laying his fingers on the lad's pulse and looking keenly in his eyes.
”Yes, sir, indeed!” said West eagerly. ”I know what I am saying, sir.”
”Yes, you are cool now; but I'm afraid the jacket will have been burned with other garments of the kind. Of course, the contents of the pockets will have been preserved.”
”Oh, they are nothing, sir,” cried West piteously. ”It is a letter sewn up in the breast that I want. It is so important!”
”Well, I'll see!” said the doctor gravely, and, signing to the nurse who had been in attendance, he left the ward, with West in a state of feverish anxiety.
At last, to West's intense satisfaction, the horribly blood-stained garment was brought in, and his hand went out trembling to catch it by the breast, fully expecting to find the missive gone.
”Yes,” he cried wildly, ”it is here!”
”Hah!” cried the doctor, and, taking out his knife, he prepared to slit it up, but West checked him.
”No,” he panted: ”the Commandant. Send for him here!”
”My good lad, he is so busy, he would not come! Let me cut out the message and send it to him.”
”No,” said West firmly; ”I will not part from it till he comes.”
”But really--”
”Tell him a wounded messenger from Mafeking has a letter for him, and he will come.”
West was right: the magic word Mafeking brought the Commandant to his bedside; and as soon as he came up he stopped short and made what little blood poor West had left flush to his face, for he cried:
”Hullo! Why, it is our illicit-diamond-dealer! I thought we were never to see you again!”
”It is not true!” cried West. ”The man who denounced me lied!”
”Then you have been to Mafeking?”
”Yes, sir: Mr Ingleborough and I.”
”And brought back a despatch?”
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