Now
the startled listeners heard the report of a revolver, followed by a
sudden, absolute silence. Lois shook herself free from Beatrice's
instinctive clutch.
"It is in my husband's room!" she said hoarsely. "Stay here! I will
go--"
She hurried across the room and, thrusting open a curtained door,
disappeared. The next instant Beatrice heard a cry which overcame
every hesitation. Horror and despair called her in that sound, and the
next moment she followed Lois' footsteps. She did not know what she
expected to see. Afterward she believed that at the back of her mind
there had been some thought of suicide. But it was not Travers' head
that she saw pillowed against Lois' knee. Travers stood on the
verandah, the smoking pistol still in his hand, his face livid and
damp with fear. At his feet his wife was bending over the body of a
man whom Beatrice recognized with a shock of pain.
"What has happened?" she asked breathlessly. "What has happened?"
Travers turned and stared at her. His eyes were glazed, and for the
moment he did not seem to know who she was.
"Captain Stafford has--been murdered!" he stammered. "He was going
down the steps when a native attacked him. I--fired, but it was too
late. Oh, thank God! Here is Colonel Carmichael!"
True enough, it was the Colonel himself who sprang up the verandah
steps. From beyond the ill-kept garden they heard the tramp of men and
a low, continuous sound, like the threatening moan of the wind.
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