They both went away, and I knew that they were going to lead another sortie across the compound and that open tennis-court. I heard them run down the stairs, heard the burst of cheering as they and others dropped down from the veranda, whilst the natives still on my balcony crowded away to the right of it and opened fire. Almost immediately the noise of fierce hand-to-hand fighting came through the windows, and I waited, tremblingly, to hear the cheers which would tell me that Mr. Scarlett’s people were coming back with Ellis; but, instead, the Afghans began yelling triumphantly, as if they were getting the upper hand. I turned my head and saw Miss Borsen stagger into the room, her face whiter than the dress she wore. She stood still for a moment, listening, then saw the revolver, glided across and steadied herself to pick it up and to open it. She made sure it was loaded, and then, in a broken voice, told me that Mr. Fisher, Mr. Scarlett, and the rest had been cut off and forced back against the telegraph building. "The Afghans are flocking down here now, and there is no one left in the house—only a few of the telegraph people down below, and they can’t do it," she moaned. Then she stood at the side of my bed and handed me the revolver, saying, in a very low voice: "If the Afghans break in I want you to kill me." She looked me through and through as I took it, as though she was not certain that she could rely on me; but then she seemed satisfied, for she knelt down close to the bed, with her head just above the edge of it, staring fixedly out to where the daylight grew and to where a surging wave of roaring, savage yells seemed to be beating round and against the whole house. The Zanzibaris began coming back into the room from the balcony, grey with fright, running, throwing away their rifles and looking for somewhere to hide, taking not the slightest notice of us. It was "all up" with us now, I felt sure, and I had to speak to her before the end did come. "Will you forgive me?" I asked. "You know what for! I’m sorry." She put out a hand and touched mine, the one which held the revolver, and said: "I have—for a long time." Then she turned her head away. There we stayed—for how long I do not know—and although every moment I expected to hear the Afghans breaking into the rooms below us and charging up the stairs, and knew what I should have to do then, I felt quite happy.