Colonel Leicester paced restlessly to and fro in front of the pavilion. It was late, but he could take no rest—his stern face was furrowed with care, and there were lines about his eyes and mouth which had not been there a short time previously. Wang had been with him that day—Wang had often been with him lately. It was difficult to get into the Legation, but for astuteness Wang had not his equal, and he expected a large reward. The Colonel knew that his child and her friend were safe, still he felt wretchedly anxious and unhappy, especially on account of Nina’s illness; and the worst of it was, his hands were tied; there was nothing for it but to wait—he could not leave the Legation, even if he had been able to do so; it would not be right to desert his post, his honour forbade that; besides, it would have been certain death, and he had no wish to risk the certainty of leaving his child unprotected. For Captain Ross it was the same. Half distraught when he first discovered that his wife was missing, he had begged the Colonel to let him go and see what he could do to recover her and Nina, or avenge their death; indeed, it was with the greatest difficulty that the Colonel prevented him from precipitating himself over the wall into the seething cauldron outside. After a time he grew calmer. News was brought that his beloved one was in comparative safety, that there was no immediate danger. Still he could not rest—it was torture to imagine what might be taking place, and yet he could do nothing. He tore his hair and wrung his hands in agony. A common sorrow is a wonderful cementer of friendship, and the two men were drawn very close to each other during that awful time. But to-night Captain Ross was absent on duty, and his place by the Colonel’s side was occupied by a younger man. It was a young, eager, boyish face that looked up at the Colonel, a young voice trembling with emotion that spoke with eager entreaty. "I shall not be missed, I don’t count for anything; do let me go, sir. I can’t bear to think of Mrs. Ross and Miss—Miss Leicester being in danger with no one to do anything for them but these Chinese devils." The Colonel’s face took on, if possible, an added shade of sternness, but he did not speak. "You know, sir, what a relief it would be to you and Captain Ross; you cannot go—of course that goes without saying—but I can, and this very night, if only you will give the necessary permission." "Crawford," said the Colonel, kindly, laying his hand on the young man’s shoulder, "do you know what you are doing? As surely as you leave here you go to certain death, and how can I, even for the sake of my own and only child, send you to that death? It would be murder, you have not counted the cost." The young man lifted his face, pale with the fixity of a noble resolve, and his brilliant blue eyes shone like stars in the dusk.