On the
verandah reigned a complete and awestruck silence. Colonel Carmichael
bent over the unconscious man.
"This is the beginning," he said somberly. "How did it happen?"
"A native must have been lying in wait for him," Travers answered. "He
struck at him with this." He held out a three-inch blade in a hand
which shook like a child's. "I tried to save him, but I couldn't. The
man escaped, though I think I hit him."
The Colonel knelt down by Lois' side, and drawing out his brandy-flask
tried to force a few drops between the purple lips.
"We were expecting him every minute," he said, "but we couldn't wait.
The danger was too pressing. Here, man--it's all right. Look up."
Captain Stafford's heavy eyelids had wavered. The Colonel shifted him
into a higher position, his head still resting against Lois' knee.
When the dying eyes opened they fell straight on the sweet dark face
bent over him in loving pity.
"Lois!" he whispered faintly. "Lois--my--kiss me!"
Lois looked up at her husband. He nodded without meeting her eyes. Her
lips rested on the chilly forehead.
"Dear John!"
"Lois--you--tell the Rajah----" He struggled fiercely for breath and
his raised hand pointed piteously at Travers. "Tell him--not--his own"
--The words died into a choked silence.
"Brandy--here! He's trying to say something. What is it, man?"
Stafford turned with a last effort, his lips parted. A second time he
pointed with a desperate insistency at Travers--then with a sudden
quick-drawn sigh he sank back, his face against Lois' shoulder.
Pages:
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329