"
"At any rate you can say more than most of us, for you have been
actually inside the place."
"And shall be again, if you will only wait another month!" cried
McKay.
But the doctors laughed at him when he talked like this.
"You will not be able to put your foot to the ground for three months
or more, and then you must make up your mind to crutches for another
six."
"I shall not see the next attack, then?"
"No; but you will see England before many weeks are gone. We are going
to send you home at once."
"But I had much rather not go--" began McKay.
"It's no use talking; everything is settled."
And so it came to pass. The good ship _Burlington Castle_, Bartholomew
Faulks, master, having filled up its complement of invalids and
wounded men, including Captain Stanislas McKay, steamed westward about
the middle of July.
CHAPTER XII.
IN LINCOLN'S INN.
Ledantec, _alias_ Hobson, had at once reported progress to Mrs.
Wilders. The day after his arrival in Paris she had heard from him. He
wrote--
"Have no fears. The police are on his track. They have his exact
description, and are watching at the Mairie. Directly he shows himself
he will be arrested as Rupert Gascoigne, tried, condemned. They do
these things well in France. You will never hear of him again.
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