“It would be well to go into the house and put out the lights, mem-sahib,” he said quietly in Hindustani.  “There is danger to-night.”

As he spoke he extinguished the lamp on the verandah and closed the doors of the house.  A second armed servant came quietly on to the verandah and the butler melted into the darkness of the garden; but they heard him go to the gate as if to guard it.

“You had better go inside, Muriel,” said Mrs. Dermot, but made no move to do so herself.

The girl did not appear to hear her.  She was listening intently for any sound from the Fort.  But silence had fallen on it.

“Muriel, won’t you go into the house?” repeated her hostess.

“Eh?  What?  No, I couldn’t.  I must stay here,” replied Miss Benson impatiently.  In the black darkness the other woman could not see her; but she felt that the girl’s every sense was alert and strained to the utmost.  She moved to her and put her arm about her.  Against it she could feel Muriel’s heart beating violently.

Suddenly from the Fort came the noise of heavy blows and a crash, instantly followed by a shot and then fierce cries.

“Oh, my God!  What is happening?” murmured the girl, her hand on her heart.

Presently there came the sound of running feet, and heavy boots clattered up the rocky road towards the Mess past the gate.

Then the butler’s voice rang out in challenge: 

“Kohn jatha? (Who goes there?)”

A panting voice answered: 

“Wargrave Sahib murgya.  Doctor Sahib ko bulana ko jatha”—­(Wargrave Sahib is killed.  I go to call the Doctor Sahib)—­and the sepoy ran on in the darkness.

“O God!  O God!” cried the girl, and tried to break from her friend’s clasp.  “Let me go!  Let me go!”

“Where to?” asked Noreen, holding the frenzied girl with all her strength.

“To him.  He’s dead.  Didn’t you hear?  He’s dead.  I must go to him.”

She struggled madly and beat fiercely at the hands that held her.

“Let me go!  Let me go!  Oh, he’s dead,” she wailed.  “Dead.  And I loved him so.  Oh, be merciful!  Let me go to him!” and suddenly her strength gave way and she collapsed into Noreen’s arms, weeping bitterly.

They heard the clattering steps meet others coming down the hill and a hurried conversation ensue.  Noreen recognised one of the voices.  Then both men came running down.

“It’s the doctor,” said Mrs. Dermot.  “Come to the gate and we’ll ask him what has happened.”

“Mr. Macdonald!  Mr. Macdonald!” she cried as the hurrying footsteps drew near.

“Who’s that?  Mrs. Dermot?  For God’s sake get into the house.  There’s a man running amuck.  Wargrave’s killed.  I’m wanted”; and the doctor, taking no thought of danger to himself when there was need of his skill, ran on into the darkness.

“I must—­I will go!” cried Muriel.