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Updated: June 11, 2025
Even that great hope of "the afterwards" was for the moment banished from his mind. He thought only of Trench and the few awkward words he had spoken in the corner of the zareeba on the first night when they lay side by side under the sky. "No," he repeated, "he must not die here." And through all that day and night he watched by Trench's side the long hard battle between life and death.
He had not any wish to stir, and he lay wondering idly how long he had been ill. While he wondered he heard the shouts of the gaolers, the cries of the prisoners outside the zareeba and in the direction of the river. The gate was opened, and the prisoners flocked in. Feversham was among them, and he walked straight to Trench's corner. "Thank God!" he cried.
They were so near to safety and yet not safe. To Trench's thinking it was longer than a night in the House of Stone, and to Feversham longer than even one of those days six years back when he had sat in his rooms above St. James's Park and waited for the night to fall before he dared venture out into the streets. They were so near to Berber, and the pursuit must needs be close behind.
As they reached the hall, one of Trench's lieutenants came through the entrance, waving his badge at the protesting man outside. He spotted the three, and jerked his thumb. "Come on, you. We're late. And I ain't staying on the streets when it gets going." A small police car was waiting outside, and they headed for it. Bruce Gordon looked at the debacle left behind the drunken, looting mob.
In these adverse circumstances the skipper did what too many men are apt to do in their day of sorrow he sought comfort in the bottle. Love of strong drink was Master Trench's weakest point. It was one of the few points on which he and his friend Burns disagreed.
And you couldn't do anything! And you hadn't the afterwards to help you you weren't looking forward to it all the time as I was ... it was all over and done with for you ..." and he lapsed again into mutterings. Colonel Trench's delight in the sound of his native tongue had now given place to a great curiosity as to the man who spoke and what he said.
"Perhaps she has now seen Willoughby; perhaps she has now taken his feather." Trench held out his hand to his companion. "I will take mine back now." Feversham shook his head. "No, not yet," and Trench's face suddenly lighted up.
Thus the parados prevents a back-fire of the bullets carried in the shrapnel shell, which otherwise might strike the trench's defenders. "You may stand up here on the fire platform, if you wish," whispered Lieutenant De Verne to Dick in English. "If you do not think it too foolish to expose yourself, you will be able to look over the top of the parapet.
"He foresaw nothing of the kind," said Spence, amused. "Only the unlikely event of Trench's death left you sole trustee. If Doran purposed anything at all why, who knows what it may have been?" Mallard refused to meet the other's look; his eyes were fixed on the horizon. "All the same, the event was possible, and he should have chosen another man of business.
The last I have read is Kingsley's 'Two Years Ago. I do not wonder that you ladies like Kingsley, for he makes all his women guardian angels. June 19th. I have read Trench's 'Lectures on English' since yesterday. I think you know them, but I had not done more than glance at them before. They open up a curious field of research if one had time enough to enter upon it.
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