Adventure stories; Islands -- Fiction; Journalists -- Fiction; Love stories; Science fiction; South Pacific Ocean -- Fiction
It was but a moment before the curtain was lifted, and there
approached a youth, apparently in the twenties, slender and
delicately formed as a woman, his dark face surmounted by a great
deal of snow-white hair. He was wearing garments of grey, cut in
unusual and graceful lines, and his throat was closely wound in
folds of soft white, fastened by a rectangular green jewel of
notable size and brilliance. His eyes, large and of exceeding beauty
and gentleness, were fixed upon St. George.
"Sir," said St. George, "we have been given this address as one
where we may be assisted in some inquiries of the utmost importance.
The name which we have is simply 'Tabnit.' Have I the honour--"
Their host bowed.
"I am Prince Tabnit," he said quietly.
St. George, filled with fresh amazement, gravely named himself and,
making presentation of the others, purposely omitted the name of
Miss Holland. However, hardly had he finished before their host
bowed before Miss Holland herself.
"And you," he said, "you to whom I owe an expiation which I can
never make,--do you know it is my servant who would have taken your
life?"
In the brief interval following this naïve assertion, his guests
were not unnaturally speechless. Miss Holland, bending slightly
forward, looked at the prince breathlessly.
"I have suffered," he went on, "I have suffered indescribably since
that terrible morning when I missed her and understood her mission.
I followed quickly--I was without when you entered, but I came too
late. Since then I have waited, unwilling to go to you, certain that
the gods would permit the possible. And now--what shall I say?"
He hesitated, his eyes meeting Miss Holland's. And in that moment
Mrs. Hastings found her voice. She curved the chain of her
eye-glasses over her ear, threw back her head until the
tortoise-rims included her host, and spoke her mind.
"Well, Prince Tabnit," she said sharply--quite as if, St. George
thought, she had been nursery governess to princes all her life--"I
must say that I think your regret comes somewhat late in the day.
It's all very well to suffer as you say over what your servant has
tried to do. But what kind of man must you be to have such a
servant, in the first place? Didn't you know that she was dangerous
and blood-thirsty, and very likely a maniac-born?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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