Love -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
Terrington brought back his men with an undiminished precaution, Mir
Khan's affability merely increasing his distrust, and Afzul Singh, his
equal in subtlety and in knowledge of the foe, had prepared a sally
should the force require assistance in getting out of the Bazaar. Mir
Khan, however, to his own everlasting regret, held his hand, so that
the little expedition returned without a shot fired, and the gates of
the Fort were shut and barred behind it. Afzul Singh had been already
entrusted with the duty of putting every alien out of the Fort, but to
prevent more securely the escape of information, the guards were
strengthened, and sentries patrolled the entire front of the Fort with
orders to shoot any man attempting to enter or leave it before dawn.
When the men were dismissed Terrington called Walcot and Dore into the
women's durbar hall and sent for Hussain Shah and Afzul Singh, who were
the two senior native officers.
"I should like to break the news to Mrs. Chantry if I may," said Walcot
in the doorway.
"The news?" enquired Terrington.
"Of her husband's death," Walcot explained.
Terrington's face showed a certain blankness of apprehension. He had
forgotten that there was any one in the Fort, whose hopes or fears
could be affected by the confirmation obtained of that morning's
tragedy.
"Oh, certainly," he said.
The room was a long gloomy one on the ground floor, used by Langford
partly as an office, partly as a store. Bales and boxes still filled
two of its corners, and the space in front of them was littered with
Sir Colvin's and the Chantrys' belongings, which were being removed
from the Residency with ostentation. One dark window in the further
wall lent what dim light the room had, and the table at which
Terrington seated himself was drawn somewhat towards it.
He was writing when the two native officers entered, and he assigned to
them the two seats on his right, with the grave silent courtesy with
which the East had coloured so curiously his English manner. Dore,
nervously tired by the excitement of the morning, had dropped limply on
to a bale of clothing, and lit a cigarette, but the two Sikhs sat erect
and impassive beside the table. Clones came in to requisition some
stores, and reported Langford to be insensible and sinking.
"If you can spare a few moments you might spend them here," said
Terrington.
The doctor nodded, and sat down on a packing-case beside Dore, rising
again at once as Mrs. Chantry, followed by Walcot, entered the room.
She was wearing still the frock of creamy lace in which she was to have
watched the polo that afternoon. Her face looked listless and white
and faded above it like a broken flower. Her eyes sought Terrington's
in the dim room with a sort of frightened submissiveness.
"May I come in?" she said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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