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Updated: May 18, 2025
Bunning's face brought him to the sudden necessity of treating the nightmare as reality, for the moment at any rate. The staring spectacles piteously appealed to him "I can't stand it I can't stand it." "Hush!" Olva held his hand, and out of the fog, below in the Court, a voice was calling "Craven! Craven! Buck up, you old ass!"
Oh! he would play as he had never played in his life before! Bunning's voice came to him from a great distance "What are you going to do? What are you going to say to Craven?" "Say to him? Why, I shall tell him, of course -tell him everything." Bunning leapt from his chair. In his urgency he put his hands on Olva's arm: "No, no, no. You mustn't do that. Why it will be as though I'd murdered you.
Olva watched him for a moment, the face, the body, everything about him utterly dejected; the sound of Olva's entrance did not at once rouse him. When at last he saw who it was he started up, his face flushing crimson. "You!" he cried. "Yes," said Olva, "I've come to tell you that everything's all right." For a moment light touched Bunning's eyes, then slowly he shook his head.
As the tremulous and almost tearful voice of little Erdington continued the solemn and dreary exposition of the Huns, Olva felt increasingly that Bunning's eye was upon him. Olva had not seen the creature since the night of the revival, and he was irritated with himself for the persistence of his interest.
There was a good deal of betting on the matter, and those who remembered his earlier games said that nothing could ever make Dune a reliable player and that it was a reliable player that was wanted. When Olva came into "Hall" that evening he was conscious of two pairs of eyes, Craven's and Bunning's.
Tell him I did it. Make him believe it. You can -you're clever enough. Make him feel that I did it. You mustn't, mustn't -let him know. Oh, please, please. I'll kill myself if you do. I will really." Olva gravely, quietly, put his hands on Bunning's shoulders. "It's all right -it had to come out. I've been avoiding it all this time, escaping it, but it had to come. Don't you be afraid of it.
Somebody got to the Mayor's Parlour by way of the back staircase, through Bunning's rooms, that evening. Who was it? That's what you've got to find out. If you'd only found out, before now, that Mrs. Bunning took half an hour to fetch the supper beer that night we should have been spared a lot of talk this morning. As things are, we're as wise as ever."
The creature was so obviously sincere. It was indeed poor Bunning's only possible "leg," his ardour. He would willingly go to the stake for anything. It was the actual death and sacrifice that mattered -and Bunning's life was spent in marching, magnificently and wholeheartedly, to the sacrificial altars and then discovering that he had simply been asked to tea.
Bunning's voice quite rang out. His eyes now desperately sought Olva's face, as though he would find there something that would make the world less black. "I wasn't frightened -not then -that was the odd thing. The only thing I thought about was saving you -getting you out of it. I didn't see! I didn't see!" "And then -what did Craven say?" Olva asked quietly. "Craven said scarcely anything.
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