A sob broke from her lips, but she choked it down as he put his arm round her, and he only felt her hands fondling his rough coat-sleeve. “If you do that, I _can’t_ go,” he muttered. “Then I won’t,” said Georgia, with an effort; but she held his arm tightly as he returned to the rest. “We may as well get things settled,” he said. “Where is this horse of yours, Anstruther?” Fitz explained the position of the ruined hut in which he had left his horse tied up, while Stratford tested the rope. “I say,” he said, “we must add some more to this. It won’t take you half-way down, and you will want something to hold on to while you are feeling for a foothold. You had better have the end fastened round you, for though the moon isn’t bad, you might easily slip, since you have not seen the cliff by daylight. I will hunt up Ismail Bakhsh, as he has charge of the baggage-ropes, and it might be a good thing if he was to lend you a turban and cloak. They would pass muster at a distance, but it is hopeless to think of disguising you satisfactorily if you meet any one at close quarters, for there are no hillmen about here. You will want food and water, too.” He hurried away, returning with Ismail Bakhsh just as Georgia was fishing the treaty out of its place of concealment. It was none the worse for its immersion, and she wrapped it in another cover and sewed it into Dick’s coat. “It was an excellent idea, that hiding-place,” said Stratford, as she and Dick rejoined the rest. “I couldn’t imagine what in the world you had done with the thing, unless you had tied a string to it and hung it out of the window. Look here, North, you had better not take your sword. It will only make a clatter, and won’t do you much good. Take the dagger the mutineers bequeathed to you instead; it is nearly long enough for a sword.” “Take care of this for me then, Georgie,” said Dick, unbuckling the sword he had just fastened on, and Georgia received the charge with gratitude, for she knew that Dick’s sword was his most cherished possession. The work of lengthening the rope was going on rapidly, the provisions for the three days’ ride, a little bread and dried fruit, a little corn for the horse, and a scanty supply of water, were fastened round Dick’s waist for the descent of the cliff, and the turban and the mantle were arranged by Ismail Bakhsh. All was ready. Dick shook hands with the rest, and turned to Georgia as she stood white and tearless beside the parapet. “Georgie, if you tell me not to go, I’ll stay now,” he whispered, as he saw her face. “No, Dick, go--for honour’s sake”--and she repeated mechanically the words which had been burning themselves into her brain during the last half-hour-- “‘I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.’ Go, dear,” she said again, and took his face between her hands and kissed him on the forehead.