“Tom Beer dead?  One of the finest fellows in the town!  And I never sent for?”

“Don’t speak so loud, or they will hear you.  I had no time to send for you; and if I had, I should not have sent, for he was past attending to you from the first.  He brought it with him, I suppose, from C——.  Had had warnings for a week, and neglected them.  Now listen to me:  that man was but two hours ill; as sharp a case as I ever saw, even in the West Indies.  You must summon up all your good sense, and play the man for a fortnight; for it’s coming on the poor souls like hell!” said Tom between his teeth, and stamped his foot upon the ground.  Frank had never seen him show so much feeling; he fancied he could see tears glistening in his eyes.

“I will, so help me God!” said Frank.

Tom held out his hand, and grasped Frank’s.

“I know you will.  You’re all right at heart.  Only mind three things:  don’t frighten them; don’t tire yourself; don’t go about on an empty stomach; and then we can face the worst like men.  And now go in, and say nothing to these people.  If they take a panic we shall have some of them down to-night as sure as fate.  Go in, keep quiet, persuade them to bolt anywhere on earth by daylight to-morrow.  Then go home, eat a good supper, and come across to me; and if I’m out, I’ll leave word where.”

Frank went back again; he found Campbell, who had had his cue from Tom, urging immediate removal as strongly as he could, without declaring the extent of the danger.  Valencia was for sending instantly for a fly to the nearest town, and going to stay at a watering-place some forty miles off.  Elsley was willing enough at heart, but hesitated; he knew not, at the moment, poor fellow, where to find the money.  His wife knew that she could borrow of Valencia; but she, too, was against the place.  The cholera would be in the air for miles round.  The journey in the hot sun would make the children sick and ill; and watering-place lodgings were such horrid holes, never ventilated, and full of smells—­people caught fevers at them so often.  Valencia was inclined to treat this as “mother’s nonsense;” but Major Campbell said gravely, that Mrs. Vavasour was perfectly right as to fact, and her arguments full of sound reason; whereon Valencia said that “of course if Lucia thought it, Major Campbell would prove it; and there was no arguing with such Solons as he—­”

Which Elsley heard, and ground his teeth.  Whereon little Scoutbush cried joyfully,—­

“I have it; why not go by sea?  Take the yacht, and go!  Where?  Of course I have it again.  ’Pon my word I’m growing clever, Valencia, in spite of all your prophecies.  Go up the Welsh coast.  Nothing so healthy and airy as a sea-voyage:  sea as smooth as a mill-pond, too, and likely to be.  And then land, if you like, at Port Madoc, as I meant to do; and there are my rooms at Beddgelert lying empty.  Engaged them a week ago, thinking I should be there by now; so you may as well keep them aired for me.  Come, Valencia, pack up your millinery!  Lucia, get the cradles ready, and we’ll have them all on board by twelve.  Capital plan, Vavasour, isn’t if? and, by Jove, what stunning poetry you will write there under Snowdon!”