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Updated: May 19, 2025
Ralston broke in upon him with a laugh. "Oh, man of one idea, in any case the Road will go on to the foot of the Hindu Kush. That's the price which Chiltistan must pay as security for future peace the military road through Kohara to the foot of the Hindu Kush." Linforth's face cleared, and he said cheerfully: "It's strange that Shere Ali doesn't realise that himself."
"Yes, but you speak" and the note of trouble was still more audible in Linforth's voice "you speak as if you and I were going to part to-morrow morning for the rest of our lives." "No," Violet cried quickly and rather sharply. Then she moved on a step or two. "I interrupted you," she said. "You were saying that when I spoke about my window, although you were troubled on my account "
He made no sign, however, that he had noticed anything. "I know that reason held good in Shere Ali's case," Ralston went on; and there came a change in Linforth's voice. It grew rather stern, rather abrupt. "Why? Has he talked?" "Not that I know of. Nevertheless, I am sure that there was one who played a part in Shere Ali's life," said Ralston.
It was troubled, fear-stricken, and in that assembly of laughing and light-hearted people it roused him with a shock. "I wish, with all my heart, that they had not," she added, and her voice shook and trembled as she spoke. The terrible story of Linforth's end, long since dim in Sir John Casson's recollections, came back in vivid detail. He said no more upon that point. He took Mrs.
The hint of a smile glimmered about Sybil Linforth's mouth, but she repressed it. She would not for worlds have let her friend see it, lest he might be hurt. "No," she replied, "Dick is not in any trouble. But " and she struggled for a moment with a feeling that she ought not to say what she greatly desired to say; that speech would be disloyal.
The trouble had gone from her face. She smiled brightly. "And the Road?" she asked. She had just remembered it. She had almost an air of triumph in remembering it. All these old memories were so dim. But at the awkward difficult moment, by an inspiration she had remembered the great long-cherished aim of Dick Linforth's life. The Road!
Shere Ali turned to the younger of the two who stood beside him and spoke a few words in a tongue which Linforth did not yet understand. The youth he was a youth with a soft pleasant voice, a graceful manner and something of the exquisite in his person stepped smoothly forward and repeated the words to Linforth's Pathan. "What does he say?" asked Linforth impatiently.
"You do understand," said Ralston, quietly. Linforth's fingers worked. That pad of cotton seemed to him more sinister than even the cords. "For her!" he cried, in a quiet but dangerous voice. "For Violet," and at that moment neither noticed his utterance of her Christian name. "Let me only find the man who entered her room." Ralston looked steadily at Linforth.
It seemed that Linforth's animosity against Shere Ali had died out. Ralston watched him keenly from the bed. Something had blunted the edge of the tool just when the time had come to use it. He threw an extra earnestness into his voice. "You have got to do more than go in pursuit of him. You have got to find him. You have got to bring him back as your prisoner." Linforth nodded his head.
This was the woman, then, whose image stood before Shere Ali's memories and hindered him from marrying one of his own race! Just with that sympathy and that keen interest does a woman look upon the man who loves her and whose love she does not return. Moreover, there was Linforth's hesitation.
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