Monday. I made every
possible haste in my toilet and ordered a horse. I wondered whether
Isaacs had received a similar missive. What could be the matter? What
might not have happened in those two days since the note was written? I
felt sure that the illness had begun before I left them in the Terai,
hastened probably by the pain she had felt at Isaacs' departure; there
is nothing like a little mental worry to hasten an illness, if it is to
come at all. Poor Miss Westonhaugh! So, after all her gaiety and all the
enjoyment she had from the tiger-hunt on which she had set her heart,
she had come back to be ill in Simla. Well, the air was fresh enough
now--almost cold, in fact. She would soon be well. Still, it was a great
pity. We might have had such a gay week before breaking up.

I was dressed, and I went down the steps, passing Isaacs' open door. He
was calmly reading a newspaper and having a morning smoke, until it
should be time to go out. Clearly he had not heard anything of Miss
Westonhaugh's illness. I resolved I would say nothing until I knew the
worst, so I merely put my head in and said I should be back in an hour
to breakfast with him, and passed on. Once on horseback, I galloped as
hard as I could, scattering chuprassies and children and marketers to
right and left in the bazaar. It was not long before I left my horse at
the corner of Mr. Currie Ghyrkins' lawn, and walking to the verandah,
which looked suspiciously neat and unused, inquired for the master of
the house. I was shown into his bedroom, for it was still very early and
he was dressing.

I noticed a considerable change in the old gentleman's manner and
appearance in the last ten days. His bright red colour was nearly faded,
his eyes had grown larger and less bright, he had lost flesh, and his
tone was subdued in the extreme. He came from his dressing-glass to
greet me with a ghost of the old smile on his face, and his hand
stretched eagerly out.

"My dear Mr. Griggs, I am sincerely glad to see you."

"I have not been in Simla two hours," I answered, "and I found your
note. How is Miss Westonhaugh? I am so sorry to----"

"Don't talk about her, Griggs. I am afraid she's g--g--goin' to die." He
nearly broke down, but he struggled bravely. I was terribly shocked,
though a moment's reflection told me that so strong and healthy a person
would not die so easily. I expressed my sympathy as best I could.

"What is it? What is the illness?" I asked when