Page 296 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

asked Frere, bending over her. ‘I was trying to recollect, but
I can’t, Maurice. It is all confused. I only remember a great
shore and a great sea, and two men, one of whom—that’s
you, dear— carried me in his arms.’
‘Dear, dear,’ said Mr. Meekin.
‘She was quite a baby,’ said Vickers, hastily, as though un-
willing to admit that her illness had been the cause of her
forgetfulness.
‘Oh, no; I was twelve years old,’ said Sylvia; ‘that’s not a
baby, you know. But I think the fever made me stupid.’
Frere, looking at her uneasily, shifted in his seat. ‘There,
don’t think about it now,’ he said.
‘Maurice,’ asked she suddenly, ‘what became of the other
man?’
‘Which other man?’
‘The man who was with us; the other one, you know.’
‘Poor Bates?’
‘No, not Bates. The prisoner. What was his name?’
‘Oh, ah—the prisoner,’ said Frere, as if he, too, had for-
gotten.
‘Why, you know, darling, he was sent to Port Arthur.’
‘Ah!’ said Sylvia, with a shudder. ‘And is he there still?’
‘I believe so,’ said Frere, with a frown.
‘By the by,’ said Vickers, ‘I suppose we shall have to get
that fellow up for the trial. We have to identify the villains.’
‘Can’t you and I do that?’ asked Frere uneasily.
‘I am afraid not. I wouldn’t like to swear to a man after
five years.’
‘By George,’ said Frere, ‘I’d swear to him! When once I