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Updated: June 29, 2025
Then he muttered inconsequently: "Confound the woman!" And closing his eyes resolutely he fell asleep. In the days that elapsed before the shoot at Marwa, Wargrave rode every afternoon to the Residency with the syce carrying his violin case, except when tennis was to be played. In their small community this could not escape notice and comment not that it occurred to him to try to avoid either.
But for her anxiety about her father and her dread of the Amban's return her worst trial would have been the monotony of her captivity, were it not that the memory of Wargrave and her unhappy love caused her many a sleepless night. With nothing to occupy her mind she hailed the festival of the Devil Dance as a welcome distraction.
Ordinarily the heat would have been intense, for the hours after noon up to three o'clock or later are the hottest of the day in India; but the gale made it quite cool. To Wargrave, tramping about unsuccessfully this time, came frequently the sound of Raymond's gun. "Ray seems to be having all the luck," he thought, as through his field-glasses he scanned the plain without seeing anything.
But she said nothing of the kind. "Do you remember old Miss Wargrave, who used to be so kind when you had the whooping-cough?" she wrote; "she's dead at last, poor thing. They would like it if you wrote. Ellen came over and we spent a nice day shopping. Old Mouse gets very stiff, and we have to walk him up the smallest hill. Rebecca, at last, after I don't know how long, went into Mr. Adamson's.
The Indian officer at his side answered in a low voice: "It is Ashraf Khan crying out in pain, Sahib. He is not yet dead." "Subhedar sahib, come with me," said Wargrave. We don't know yet if the missing sentry did the deed." The sight that met the subaltern's eyes was one that he was not easily to forget.
Wargrave armed with a sporting Mannlicher rifle, set off on a long tramp to look for chinkara, which are pretty little antelope with curving horns. The wind, which was freshening, prevented the heat from being excessive. The sport was fairly good. When lunch-time came the adjutant and Mrs. Norton had got quite a respectable bag of partridges and a few hares.
And Violet liked comfort and hated work. During dinner Wargrave found himself instinctively criticising Norton's manner and conversation, and rapidly arrived at the conclusion that Raymond had described him accurately. The Resident, though a very worthy individual, was undoubtedly a bore; and Colonel Trevor, beside whom he sat, strove in vain to appear interested in his conversation.
Below them the bottom was clear of scrub which ended fifty yards away. Dermot stopped opposite; and both elephants were turned to face towards the spot where the tiger was judged to be. "Mr Wargrave, get to the front of the howdah and be ready," she said in a low tone. The subaltern protested chivalrously against taking the best place. "Oh, it's all right.
The servants spread a rug for her under the trees and placed a camel saddle for her to recline against. Then carrying away the empty dishes, plates, glasses and cutlery they retired out of sight. "Are you sure you don't mind being left alone, Mrs. Norton?" asked Wargrave. "Not in the least. Do go and shoot again," she replied, smiling up at him.
Are we going to be buried under a mound of sand, like the pictures we used to have in our schoolbooks of caravans overwhelmed in the Sahara?" Mrs. Norton smiled. "Not quite as bad as that," she answered. "But unpleasant enough, I assure you. If only we had any shelter!" Wargrave looked around desperately.
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