'
'I must return to England at once,' I said. 'I shall apply to the
Home Secretary to have the body disinterred.'
'Why, sir?'
'In order that she may be buried in a proper place, to be sure.'
'No use. You have no _locus standi_.'
'What do you mean?'
'You are not a relative, and to ask for a disinterment for such an
unimportant reason as that you, a stranger, would prefer to see her
buried elsewhere, would be idle.'
Sleaford now came into the cabin. I thanked him for his kindness, but
told him I must return at once.
'Even if your health permitted,' he said, 'it is impossible for the
yacht to go back. I have an appointment to meet a yachting friend.
But in any case depend upon it, old fellow, the doctor won't hear of
your returning for a long while yet. He told me not five minutes ago
that nothing but sea air, and keeping your mind tranquil, you know,
will restore you.'
The feeling of exhaustion that came upon me as he spoke convinced me
that there was only too much truth in his words. I felt that I must
yield to the inevitable; but as to tranquillity of mind, my entire
being was now filled with a yearning to see the New North
Cemetery--to see her grave.
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