“Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?” Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper. "Captain," he cried, in a voice of the bitterest anguish, "have these dogs again hunted you down? If you hadn't been so unlucky, I should have been with you before to-morrow night. But God will punish you for what you have done this day. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. For heaven’s sake, give him some Madeira or something, Gerald! Anything to calm him down.
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