"So glad, old chap--so glad to--to see you yourself again!" whispered Max, huskily.

But Dudley was not himself. He looked up again, then tried to smile, and at last turned his head abruptly and seemed to be listening.

Carrie beckoned to Max and spoke low in his ear.

"You'd better take him away from here as quickly as you can, for half a dozen reasons."

Max nodded, but looked doubtful.

"He's ill," said he. "How shall I get him away? And where shall I take him to?"

"Down to your father's house" answered she at once.

Max looked rather startled.

"But--you know--the police!" muttered he, almost inaudibly. "Won't that be the very first place they'd come to--my home?"

"Never mind that. You must risk it. He's going to be ill, I think, and he can't be left here. Surely you know that."

She gave a glance round which made Max shiver.

"And how am I to get him all that way to-night? The last train has gone hours ago."

"Take him by road, then. We'll get a carriage--a conveyance of some sort or other--at once. I'll send Bob."

She turned to the lad and gave him some directions, in obedience to which he disappeared. Then she turned fiercely to Max.

"Don't you see," said she, "that if he wakes up and finds himself here, after what's happened, it'll about settle him?"

The words sent a shudder through Max.

"After what's happened!" repeated he, with stammering tongue. "What was it? Who did it?"

But, instead of answering, Carrie threw herself down beside Dudley, who was now rapidly recovering strength, although he hardly seemed to understand where he was or by whom he was being tended.

"Do you feel all right now?" she asked, cheerfully.

He looked at her with dull eyes.

"Oh, yes," said he. "But I--I don't remember what--"

"Take a drink of this," interrupted Carrie, quickly, as she put to his lips a flask of brandy which Bob had fetched. "You've got to take a long drive, and you want something to warm you first."

"A drive! A long drive!"

Dudley repeated the words as if he hardly understood their meaning. But he was not satisfied, and as he sipped the brandy he looked at her curiously. His next words, however, were a criticism on the restorative.

"What vile stuff!"

"Never mind. It's better than nothing. Try a little more."

But instead of obeying, he looked her steadily in the face.

"Where did I see you? I remember your face!" said he. "And who was that I heard talking just now?"

Suddenly, without any warning, he disengaged one hand from the hot towels in which he was swathed and sat up. A hoa.r.s.e cry broke from his lips as full recognition of the place in which he found himself forced itself upon him. With a wild light of terror in his eyes, he looked searchingly round him.

"Where is he? Where is he?" cried he, in a thick whisper.

Carrie's face grew dark.

"Here is your friend," she cried cheerily, "here is Mr. Wedmore. He's going with you; he's not going to leave you; be sure of that."

"Yes, old chap, I'm going with you," said Max, hurrying forward and trying to shut out the view of the room with his person as he knelt down by his friend.

Dudley frowned impatiently.

"You, Max!" said he. "What are you doing here?"

But he asked the question without interest, evidently absorbed in another subject.

"I'm going to take you down to The Beeches," answered Max, promptly.

To his infinite satisfaction, this reply had the effect of distracting Dudley's thoughts. Into his pallid face there came a tinge of color, as he looked intently into his friend's eyes, and repeated:

"The Beeches! You don't mean that!"

"I do; the carriage will be here in a minute or two. And in the meantime we must think upon getting you dressed."

This question of clothing promised to be a difficult one, as Dudley's own things were saturated with water. Carrie sprang to her feet.

"I'll see about that," said she, briskly, as she disappeared from the room.

Max, alarmed at being left alone with Dudley, in whose eyes he could see the dawn of struggling recollection, babbled on about Christmas, his mother, his sisters, anything he could think of till Carrie came back again, with her arms full of men's clothes--a motley a.s.sortment.

Max looked at them doubtfully. They were all new--suspiciously new.

Carrie laughed, with a little blush.

"Better not ask any questions about them," said she. "Take your choice, and be quick."

With his lips Max formed the word: "Stolen?" but Carrie declined to answer. As there was no help for it, Max dressed his friend in such of the clothes as were a pa.s.sable fit for him, while Carrie went out to watch for the expected carriage. When she returned to the kitchen, Dudley was ready for the journey. He was lying back in a chair, looking very white and haggard and exhausted, casting about him glances full of expectancy and terror, and starting at every sound.

But he asked no more questions, and he made no mention of Mrs. Higgs.

Bob had fulfilled his errand well. Outside the wharf they found a comfortable landau, with two good horses, hired from the nearest livery-stable.