He is the real murderer.
The Zulus would not have dared," and she choked and was silent.
"Let me think," said Richard confusedly. "There is something in my mind.
What is it? Oh! I know. If you are right that devil has not done this for
nothing. He is somewhere near; he wants to take you"; and he ground his
teeth at the thought, then added: "Rachel, we must get out of this and
ride for Durban, at once--at once; the white people will protect you
there."
"Who will bury my father and mother?" she asked in the same cold voice.
"I do not know, it does not matter, the living are more than the dead. I
can return and see to it afterwards."
"You are right," she answered. Then she knelt down by the bed and lifting
her beautiful, agonised face, put up some silent prayer. Next she rose and
kissed first her father, then her mother, kissed their dead brows in a
last farewell and turned to go. As she went her eyes fell upon the assegai
that lay near to the dead Zulu. Stooping down, she took it and with it in
her hand passed on to the stoep. Here her strength seemed to fail her, for
she reeled against the wall, then with an effort flung herself into
Richard's arms, moaning:
"Only you left, Richard, only you. Oh! if you were taken from me also,
what would become of me?"
A moment later she became aware that the stoep was swarming with men who
seemed to arise out of the shadows.
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