CHAPTER XX.
FOR THE HONOUR OF ENGLAND’S SAKE.
Half an hour later, Georgia stepped out of the great latticed window on the terrace, and kneeling beside the parapet, rested her arms on it, and looked away over the desert. There in the distance rose the walls and towers of Bir-ul-Malikat, Fath-ud-Din’s second fortress, which crowned the top of a conical hill some four miles from Bir-ul-Malik. Within those walls old Khadija, the sorceress, bore rule, and held in her grasp the knowledge which alone could save Sir Dugald’s life. Lady Haigh’s intuition had been a true one, although there was no outward change in her husband’s condition. Whether the sand-storm and the hurried journeyings of the day had brought about a loss of vitality, or whether they had merely rendered perceptible a failure which had hitherto been too gradual to be noticed, it was undeniable that the pulse was less regular, and the action of the heart more feeble than before. The insidious poison administered by Fath-ud-Din was sapping Sir Dugald’s life away, and, unless the mysterious antidote could be obtained, his protracted unconsciousness would before long pass into death.
“I must see this Khadija,” said Georgia to herself, as her eyes wandered over the desert, “and find out whether anything will induce her to sell her secret. I might introduce myself to her as a sister in the craft—Abd-ur-Rahim and his men would bear me out—and suggest an interchange of ideas. There must be quite a number of things I could tell her, and I could set her up with a few medicines. The effects would be wonderful to her. But then, she might not care for remedies, and I am certainly not going to put more poisons into her hands. I fancy that killing is more in her line than curing. What was it that Rahah told me she said when a girl asked her for a love-philtre? ‘I shall make no love-philtre but one, and that will be for my Rose of the World to give her bridegroom on the marriage-night.’ I’m afraid she would not care about the opportunity of doing kindnesses. She must be fond of the girl Zeynab—perhaps it might be possible to work upon her feelings through her. At any rate, I must see her; but how am I to manage it? Dick would be very angry if I went without telling him, and yet I am sure he would prevent my going if he knew of it. But I will go, even if I have to break with Dick about it. To leave Sir Dugald to die, and make Lady Haigh a widow, when I knew where the remedy was to be found, just for fear of vexing Dick, would be shameful. I shall be obliged to oppose him some day, and it is a good thing to do it for the first time in such an absolutely righteous cause. There can be no doubt whatever as to my being in the right this time, but I’m sure he won’t see it. I do wish people would be a little more reasonable!”
She was tapping her stethoscope impatiently against the stones as she spoke, and it slipped suddenly from her fingers and rolled over the edge of the parapet. Looking after it, she saw that, instead of dropping or rolling down into the plain, as she had expected, it had lodged on a projection in the cliff, not more than twenty feet below the parapet, where a few tufts of withered-looking grass had found holding-ground. Still, it was quite beyond her power to reach it.
“How careless of me!” she said, with deep vexation. “My dear old hospital stethoscope! I wonder whether it could be reached from here? I think a man with a rope might be able to get it. How much astonished Dick would be if I asked him to go down for it! I wonder whether he would go? He would send one of the servants, I should think. It would be quite easy to let him down and draw him up again. What a convenient little shelf that is! It would be rather a good place to put the treaty in, for if they catch Mr Anstruther and find he has not got it, they may come back and make another search. I wonder whether it would be safe? I don’t think the cover would show among that grass.”
Leaning over the parapet, she scanned the face of the cliff, and raised herself to her former position with some disappointment.
“It would be very difficult to drop it just in the right place,” she went on meditatively; “and, if there was a storm, the rain would be sure to wash it away. Of course, it might lodge somewhere lower down—or it might not; and, if it did, we might not be able to get at it. Why, it looks as though there might be a path right up the cliff to the shelf! It is quite a series of steps and ledges, and projecting stones, and tufts of grass. It would need a very cool head to climb it, and a sure foot too, but I believe it could be done. It might be very dangerous, for any one could get in and attack us without our knowing. They could hide among those ruined huts at the foot of the cliff, and choose a time when none of us were out here. Of course, they couldn’t very well get up as far as this from the shelf, for the cliff overhangs just at the top, and there are no projections; but they might have a rope-ladder with a hook at the top to throw up and catch in something, or some other way of doing it. It doesn’t feel a bit safe. I know I shall dream that there are men getting up here all night; but I won’t be silly and frighten the rest. It’s all nonsense! No one could climb this last piece of the cliff.”
Notwithstanding the certainty of this assurance, the memory of that giddy path, probably made in the rainy season by the wild goats, haunted Georgia, and when bedtime came she stole out again to make sure that there was no one climbing up it. In the great bare room behind her, Rahah, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was contemplating with much satisfaction the arrangements she had devised for the night. It so happened that among the luggage that had gone astray was Georgia’s mattress and pillow. This loss Rahah had repaired by lying in wait for Dick and informing him of it, receiving, as she had anticipated, an order to carry off his bedding for Miss Keeling’s benefit. She obeyed promptly, regardless of the wrath of his bearer, who cursed her audibly whenever he saw her, for the duty of spoiling the Egyptians was one very congenial to Rahah’s mind. In her view, it was part of a lady’s-maid’s business to exploit every other human being with an eye to her mistress’s pleasure or welfare, and if the Major Sahib was willing to sleep on the floor in order that the doctor lady should be in comfort, it was not for her to baulk him. Georgia, of course, knew nothing, and was to know nothing of this little arrangement; and Rahah sat and yawned, and blinked sleepily at the lamp, and wished that her mistress would come to bed quickly and not stay looking down that horrible cliff.
But Georgia, leaning over the parapet and staring down into the darkness, saw more than the indeterminate outlines of rocks and sun-dried bushes. Her heart was in her mouth as she peered down the cliff, for she felt certain that she had seen something moving below, and that it, whatever it might be, was climbing the hazardous path she had noticed by daylight. Too much fascinated and horror-stricken to move, she remained leaning over the edge until Lady Haigh stepped out of the carved doorway behind her and startled her by speaking suddenly.
“Oughtn’t you to be coming to bed, Georgie? It is very late, and you have had an anxious day. What are you looking at down there?”
“Oh, Lady Haigh, there is some one—a man or several men—climbing up the cliff!” was the gasping answer, as Georgia turned round with a blanched face.
Lady Haigh pushed her gently aside and looked over as she had done.
“There is something there, certainly,” she whispered; “but it is almost sure to be only a goat.”
Somewhat reassured, Georgia returned to her post of vantage, and side by side they watched together the upward progress of the dark body, until the sound of labouring breath reached them, showing that the climb must be a severe one.
“It is a man,” said Lady Haigh. “Can they get quite to the top?”
“No, about twenty feet down the cliff begins to slope outwards.”
“Then we won’t alarm the gentlemen just yet. It may be only one of our own servants trying to discover us, and we don’t want him to fall into Abd-ur-Rahim’s hands. We shall soon see whether this man’s intentions are hostile.”
“He has reached the ledge now,” gasped Georgia. “He is resting.”
The mysterious visitor seemed inclined to make no further effort for the present, for he remained motionless during several anxious moments; but at last a very low, clear whistling became audible, to which Lady Haigh and Georgia listened in astonishment and trepidation.
“It must be a signal,” whispered Georgia. “No,” she cried, suddenly, “I know that tune! It is the ‘Battle of the Boyne,’ and a minute ago it was ‘Derry Walls.’ Lady Haigh, it’s Mr Anstruther!”
“Is it you, Mr Anstruther?” asked Lady Haigh, in a low voice. The answer came back promptly.
“It is myself, very much at your service, Lady Haigh, if I could only get near enough to serve you. Are you all right?”
“Quite safe at present,” returned Georgia; “but we have gone through some thrilling experiences during the day. How did you find us out?”
“Lost my way in the sand-storm, and wandered round the wrong side of the hill. I took shelter among those ruins down below, and my horse is there still. When I ventured out to scout a little, I saw the Mission taking a prominent part—and I guessed an unwilling one—in a procession up the hill and into the fortress, so I returned to my hiding-place and planned doughty deeds. But could you get me up this last piece of cliff by any means?—for it’s rather exhausting to carry on a long conversation in a stage-whisper, craning one’s neck upwards all the while. Besides, I have some of your property about me, Miss Keeling, which I should be glad to restore to you. By the bye, did you lose anything about five o’clock this afternoon, when you stood looking over the edge for such a long time? It was that which enabled me to locate you so smartly.”
“Yes, I dropped my pet stethoscope, and I shall be extremely grateful if you can find it. It fell on the ledge where you are sitting. But I will just go and send Rahah to see whether it is safe to call the rest to pull you up.”
She returned in a few minutes with her arms full of pieces of rope.
“We can do nothing at present. Rahah reconnoitred through the key-hole or in some such way, and she says that the gentlemen have got a ‘party.’ Mr Stratford is playing chess with Abd-ur-Rahim, and the other two are talking to his officers. She is to bring us word at once when the party breaks up, and in the meantime I have taken all the ropes from the boxes, and Lady Haigh and I can fasten them together. The rope will be fearfully knotty, but perhaps that will make it safer.”
“It will be all the better,” said Fitz, decisively, “for we need not wait for the other fellows to come and pull me up. If you and Lady Haigh will fasten the rope round something firm, and pull at it both together with all your strength to test the knots, you can send me the end, and I will come up hand over hand if you will help to hoist me over the parapet.”
The two ladies agreed to this proposition with fear and trembling, and many hopes that Dick and Stratford would arrive before the construction of the rope was completed. But they did not come, and the knots were tied and tested, and the rope fastened with extraordinary care round the stone pillar which formed the central support of the carved lattice-work of the window. With many cautions, the other end was passed down to Fitz, and he came up it in a way which extorted mingled admiration and terror from the watchers. Helping hands assisted him over the parapet, and at last he stood safe and sound upon the terrace.
“Well,” he said, cheerfully, “I shall have to tell the gymnasium instructor at Whitcliffe Grammar School how useful his teaching has been when I get home. Without it I might have remained on that ledge all night, and serenaded you with Orange ditties at a hopeless distance, Miss Keeling. But I mustn’t forget to restore you your lost property. There is your stethoscope, and here is your cat.”
Untying the handkerchief he presented to her, and which had been secured in some complicated way to the buttonholes of his coat, Georgia released Colleen Bawn, very much rumpled and highly indignant, from her imprisonment, and deposited her on the ground, soothing her ruffled feelings and fur by a little friendly stroking.
“I am ashamed to think you should have taken so much trouble about her, Mr Anstruther. Thank you very, very much, and for finding the stethoscope too. What do you think of doing now?”
“I should rather like some grub, if there is any going. I haven’t had anything since breakfast, for I hadn’t the forethought to take meat lozenges with me, as Stratford did. Biscuits, or something of that sort that is at hand, and won’t need preparing, for I don’t intend to stay here, and I don’t want to be caught.”
A frugal meal of biscuits, potted meat, and water, in which Colleen Bawn claimed a share, was quickly set before Fitz, and when his hunger was partially satisfied he looked up.
“Lady Haigh, I want you to exert your authority. When I found that you were all in here, and I was outside, I had some thoughts of making for the frontier at once and fetching help; but then I hit on another plan. I want Miss Keeling to come too. My horse has been resting ever since the storm, and is perfectly fresh, and she could ride him splendidly if we changed the saddle. I could walk all right, and we should be a good way towards Fort Rahmat-Ullah in the morning.”
Lady Haigh sat down upon the parapet and burst into stifled but irrepressible laughter, which failed, however, to disconcert Fitz.
“My dear boy,” she gasped, while he looked at her resolutely and without a smile, “it is quite untrue to say that the age of chivalry—of the wildest knight-errantry—is gone. Can you really think it possible that we should allow Miss Keeling to go wandering off like Una, with you as a protector instead of the lion? Why, it is fully three days’ journey to the frontier from here, and there are enemies all the way.”
“I would take care of her, really. I would die before any harm should happen to her.”
“I haven’t a doubt of that, but you forget that when you were once dead, the situation would be rather serious for Miss Keeling. And how do you imagine that Major North would receive your proposal?” and Lady Haigh collapsed again helplessly.
“But, Lady Haigh,” said Georgia, quickly, afraid that Fitz’s feelings might be hurt, “Mr Anstruther might take the treaty with him, if he is going to ride to Fort Rahmat-Ullah. Mr Stratford told us this morning that Abd-ur-Rahim and the rest think he is already on the way there with it, and it would be splendid to get it into a place of safety.”
“Come, that is worth thinking about!” said Lady Haigh. But, after a moment’s consideration, she shook her head decidedly. “No, Georgie, it won’t do. Sir Dugald would never have trusted any one so young with the treaty, and I am sure Mr Stratford won’t.”
“Oh, really now, Lady Haigh,” said Fitz, much wounded, “I have my compass, and I can find my way about as well as most people. There’s my horse as fresh as he can be, and I would simply ride night and day until I got to the Fort.”
“Or until your horse dropped dead in the desert, and left you stranded with the treaty,” said Lady Haigh. “No, Mr Anstruther, you are not at all the man for such an enterprise. It needs prudence and caution even more than reckless riding and dare-devil bravery. Georgie,” she turned to her impatiently, “don’t you see what I mean? There is only one person here to whom the treaty could be intrusted with any hope of saving it and us, and that is Major North.”
“Dick!” gasped Georgia, catching at the lattice to steady herself. “Oh no, Lady Haigh, you can’t mean that! Why should Dick go?”
“Because he is the only man who could possibly carry the thing through; and he is a soldier, and it is his duty,” responded Lady Haigh, tersely.
“Don’t be afraid, Miss Keeling,” said Fitz, with an aggressive indifference to Lady Haigh’s line of argument. “North is not going to take my job away from me, and ride off upon my gee—not if I know it!”
“Here are Mr Stratford and Major North,” said Lady Haigh, as, conducted by Rahah, they emerged from the lattice, and explained that Abd-ur-Rahim and his subordinates had only just departed, finding their prisoners oppressed with unconquerable fatigue. The moment they were left alone, Rahah had delivered her message, and they waited only to place Kustendjian on guard in case of the return of Abd-ur-Rahim, and followed her guidance. Georgia watched them helplessly as they congratulated Fitz on his safety, and examined the rope, and peered down into the gulf below. She remained leaning against the pillar, unable to quit its friendly support, even when the murmur of low voices told her that Lady Haigh was repeating her former suggestion.
“I call it beastly unfair, the way I am done out of everything!” she heard Fitz grumble at last. “When you had that jolly row in the Mission courtyard round the flagstaff, I had to stay in and guard the house, and that other time when I wanted to go to the Palace you wouldn’t let me. And now you mean to keep me here, while North uses my horse and my way out of this place, though I’m the only one of you that didn’t manage to get shut up here.”
“And you managed that by desertion and disobedience to orders,” said Stratford, impatiently, for he had succeeded by this time in extracting from Ismail Bakhsh the particulars of Fitz’s mysterious disappearance. “Try not to be more of a fool than you can help, young Anstruther. We can’t risk the honour of the country and the fate of the Mission on the hope that you may chance to act sensibly for once.”
“I say that it is my right to go, Mr Stratford,” returned Fitz, doggedly; but Dick broke through the group, and came to Georgia.
“Shall I go, Georgie?”
“Oh, Dick, must I decide for you?”
“You have a right to do it, I think. At any rate, right or no right, I am not going if you ask me not to. I put myself in your hands, Georgie, and the treaty and everything else may slide if you tell me to stay here. What good would it all be to me if—if anything happened to you while I was gone?”
He spoke hoarsely, his words tumbling over one another, and Georgia felt that the hands which clasped hers were hot and shaking. She looked at him in amazement which was almost terror. Was it possible that in some ways she was stronger than he was—that he was confessedly looking to her for the strength which should enable him to tear himself away from her?
“It is an awfully risky thing, Miss Keeling,” said Stratford, interposing with an honest determination to let Georgia know the worst before she made her decision. “He takes his life in his hand if he goes. I am sure no one could wonder at your keeping him back. In fact, under the circumstances, I should think it quite probable that no one would expect him to leave you here and ride off to Rahmat-Ullah to save the treaty.”
“If I were not here,” said Georgia, “would you think it right for him to go?”
“Well, things would be different then, you see—and really this is such an important business——”
“Why?”
“We are tolerably safe, I suppose, in any case; but to get back without the treaty would be rather a bad blow for our prestige, of course. All the old troubles would begin again, and England would become a laughing-stock——”
“I see,” said Georgia. “Dick, you must go.”
“All right,” said Dick, gruffly, restored to composure by the decision with which she spoke; “but why?”
“For England’s sake—for honour’s sake,” she replied. Dick looked at her in some alarm. Had the greatness of the crisis, which for the moment had unmanned himself, turned her brain, or could she really find comfort in fine language at such a time? He did not know the sustaining power which is contained for a woman in a phrase of the kind. It gives her something to lean upon, as she repeats it to herself with a determination to be worthy of it.
“You are sure you don’t mind, Georgie?” he asked in his blundering way.
“Oh no; I am not likely to mind, am I?” she said, with a sudden fierceness in her voice. “Do you want to break my heart, Dick?”
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.
“It’s women like you that make men heroes in spite of themselves,” broke out Dick. “Oh, Georgie, I was a brute to you this morning—about that cat of yours. Say you forgive me.”
“Dick!” she almost laughed. “As though I could remember such a thing as that now! Good-bye, my dearest, and God go with you.”
“God keep you, my darling!” He held her in his arms for a moment longer, then released her with a last kiss. “Take care of her,” he said to the rest, as he stepped up on the parapet, and let himself down by the rope. They lowered him carefully to the ledge, and from thence, with the rope still round his waist, he made his way down the precarious path to the foot of the cliff. Presently the strain on the rope ceased. Those above drew it up, and listening intently, fancied they could hear the sound of a horse’s hoofs as it was led cautiously over the fallen rocks into the open plain, but the shadows were too confusing to allow them to distinguish anything by the sense of sight. They listened anxiously for any alarm from the walls which might indicate that some sentry had been more successful, but none came, and they returned slowly to their several quarters, Fitz taking possession of the room which had been assigned to Dick. As for Georgia, she kissed the sword-hilt on which her lover’s fingers had so often rested, and allowed her tears to have free course, now that he was no longer at hand for his heart to be troubled by them.
Very early the next morning, before any of Abd-ur-Rahim’s dependants were about, Stratford, Fitz, and Ismail Bakhsh might have been seen hard at work by the light of a smoky lamp. They were taking the long rope to pieces, or, in other words, restoring its component parts to their original form as box cords, and returning them to the places where they might reasonably be expected to be found under ordinary circumstances. When Rahah had been intrusted with the fragments out of which Lady Haigh and Georgia had formed their first rope, and Ismail Bakhsh had carried away the rest to put them back with the luggage of which he had charge, the prisoners breathed more freely, and Stratford took advantage of the momentary pause to arrange plans for the day.
“Look here, Anstruther—we must keep it dark as long as possible that North is gone and that you are here in his place. It strikes me that the fellows who were looking for you yesterday all went too far afield, and that’s how they missed you. To-day they will argue that they had better look at home first, and they will set to work to search the ruins down below, and the rocks near the spot where we halted, and any caves there may be in the neighbourhood. I don’t know what sort of trackers they are here, but if they are anything like so good as the natives in India, they will find out in no time that the ruins were occupied until last night, and that a man on horseback left them and took a certain course. They may even be able to discover our way up and down the cliff by means of your footprints and North’s. Still, it will all take a certain amount of time, and every hour of delay is so much gain for North. On the other hand, if they don’t happen to light upon his trail, and we keep you well out of sight, they may waste the whole day in an exhaustive search of the desert just round here, which would be nuts for us. You must pretend to be seedy, and stay in your room. If you don’t show up, perhaps they won’t find out the state of affairs for a day or two.”
“Beastly dull for me!” grumbled Fitz; but he yielded to the inevitable, and returned to his room, resolved to make up for the fatigues of the night by a few hours’ additional sleep. Indeed, the whole party slept late that morning, and when Abd-ur-Rahim came in to inquire after the health of his prisoners, he found only Stratford prepared to receive him. This was fortunate, in that it postponed the danger of discovery, and Stratford gladly accepted the old man’s offer of a ride round the city in his company, as tending still further to avert suspicion. By one means or another, the whole of the day was tided over successfully, and the spirits of the captives began to rise. The next day, however, a new difficulty confronted them, in the shape of a deputation from the mutinous cavalry escort, who had found their way to Bir-ul-Malik, and demanded an interview with their hero Dick. In vain were they assured that he could not and would not see them. They expressed their readiness to await his convenience for any length of time; and Stratford guessed that, fearing they had made their native land too hot to hold them, they entertained the design of crossing the frontier under Dick’s leadership, taking their women and children with them, and transferring their allegiance to Her Most Gracious Majesty, as a preliminary to enlisting in the Khemistan Horse. It was a distinct relief to Stratford, when he considered the spirit in which Dick would probably have received this precious offer of service, to remember that he was not in the place; but it was a very embarrassing thing to have these men continually waiting and watching for an opportunity of seeing him. They were not interfered with in any way by Abd-ur-Rahim and his men—a fact which confirmed Stratford’s conviction that it had been arranged with them beforehand by Fath-ud-Din’s emissaries that they were to mutiny and desert when they did, and that their indignation respecting the misappropriated bakhshish was only part of a deep-laid plot.
For some two or three hours the deputation sat waiting patiently outside the quarters allotted to the prisoners, while ambassadors went to them at intervals to represent the uselessness of their remaining, and to advise them to withdraw. Then fortune favoured them, and they stole a march on Stratford. He had gone into the inner rooms to speak to the ladies, while Kustendjian was busy in his own quarters, and the deputation grasped their opportunity, and, after surprising and binding the man on guard at the door, walked in. Dick’s bearer was the only person who saw them enter, and he seized the moment, while they were admiring Stratford’s toilet arrangements, in the first room they reached, to rush to his master’s quarters and throw a sheet over Fitz, who was lying on the bedstead, very hot and discontented, in his shirt and trousers. There was just time for him to turn his face to the wall and for the man to arrange the sheet over his head in the manner of the natives when they sleep, before the deputation entered. A murmur of delight broke from them when they saw the shrouded figure, and they sat down in a semicircle on the floor, to wait until their desired leader should awake, all with their eyes fixed on the sheet, beneath which Fitz lay writhing in agonies of laughter. In vain did the bearer attempt to dislodge them by threats of his master’s anger when he awoke, in vain prophesy that their presence would do him harm; they simply reiterated their determination to see the General Dīk. At last, between laughter and the sheet, Fitz could bear no more; and, almost suffocated with heat, he threw out an arm and pushed the covering partially aside. A murmur of astonishment showed him at once that he had done more than he intended.
“But