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The darkness had hidden these things from George's notice, but now, reaching his hand down beside his horse's flanks, he realized the truth of his companion's words, and a feeling of relief passed over him, as he thought that, at least, he could now give a good account of himself. The slowness of their pace seemed to Helmar unnecessary.
The blackies were used to this sort of thing, and marched along as unconcernedly as if it were the natural state of things, only now and then would be heard a remark as a shell came a little nearer than usual. The spot was reached, and in a few minutes Helmar was superintending the throwing up of trenches.
The lot fell upon the sailor; but he was the strongest of us and would not abide by it, and attacked Helmar with his hands. They grappled together and almost stood up. I crawled along the boat to them, intending to help Helmar by grasping the sailor's leg; but the sailor stumbled with the swaying of the boat, and the two fell upon the gunwale and rolled overboard together. They sank like stones.
"By Heaven, it is Helmar!" cried Angus, fire leaping up his brow; but Mary Strathsay touched him to stone with a fling of her white finger, and went like a ghost herself and opened the casement, as the other signed for her to do.
"What is it you mean, Margray dear?" "Sure you've heard of Helmar, child?" Yes, indeed, had I. The descendant of a bold Spanish buccaneer who came northwardly with his godless spoil, when all his raids upon West-Indian seas were done, and whose name had perhaps suffered a corruption at our Provincial lips.
It was a dirty envelope, of the cheaper kind, sealed down and addressed to him. "The mystery deepens. It's from some one who knows me, evidently. The writing seems familiar, too. I wonder " "Confound it, man, open it!" broke in his impatient companion. "You are right about the handwriting. It is familiar." Helmar tore the envelope open, and examined the contents.
I suppose he's going to pay you out of what he stole from the barracks. What are you going to do about it?" Helmar looked long at the paper before replying. He was trying to find out what lay hidden under these lines. Somehow, he could not bring himself to believe in their genuineness. There was a deeply suspicious air about the whole thing, not the least being the delivery of the note.
George knew the man's words were not meant unkindly, although they were something of a raven's croaking; however, with undamped ardour, he attacked the pile of greasy toast and waited for his host to continue. "I ain't got no opinion o' them all-fired Gypies!" he went on, as Helmar did not reply. "They're that treacherous as never, and if they gits 'old o' yer it means murder.
"Now tell me what all this means," he said, glancing at George's dishevelled appearance, and doubtfully eyeing the torn clothes and the worried face in front of him. "It simply means that they wanted to murder me by roasting me alive, and, failing that, with knives and clubs." Helmar then recounted all that had happened to him from the time he had left Alexandria with the patrol.
Waring were rehearsing the last great scene between Nora and Helmar. At the end of it, he came up to me, in a state of high excitement. "This is a fine play!" he said. "This is sure to be a big thing!" I was greatly pleased. "If this scene, of all others," I thought, "carries a man like Mr. Smith off his feet, it cannot fail to hold the British public."
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