"Get me some wine," he said.

"I am all right but over-tired." Cathcart poured champagne into a tumbler.

Trent emptied it at a gulp and asked for biscuits.

The man's recuperative powers were wonderful.
Already the deathly whiteness was passing from his cheeks.
"Where is Da Souza ?" he asked.
"Gone back to England," Cathcart answered, looking out of the open casement shaded from the sun by the sloping roof.

"His steamer started yesterday." Trent was puzzled.