quickly. "If--if you must go, I'll come, too. But
first, will you promise--whatever happens--not to--to laugh at me?"

Baring made an abrupt movement that she was at a loss to interpret. It
was too dark for her to see his face with any distinctness.

"Very well," he said. "Yes; I promise that."

Hope was still almost crying. She felt horribly ashamed. With her hand
in his, she went beside him up the short drive to the bungalow. And, as
she went, she vehemently wished that the earth would open and swallow
her up.

IV

HER NATURAL PROTECTOR

They ascended to the veranda still hand-in-hand. It was deserted.

Baring led her straight along it till he came to the two chairs outside
the drawing-room window. They were empty. A servant had just lighted a
lamp in the room behind them.

"Go in!" said Baring. "I will come back to you."

She obeyed him. She felt incapable of resistance just then. He passed on
quietly, and she stood inside the room, waiting and listening with
hushed breath and hands tightly clenched.

The seconds crawled by, and again there came to her straining ears the
cry of a jackal from far away. Then at last she caught the sound of
Baring's voice, curt and peremptory, and her heart stood still. But he
was only speaking to the _punkah-coolie_ round the corner, for almost
instantly the great fan above her head began to move.

A few seconds more, and he reappeared at the window alone. Hope drew a
great breath of relief and awoke to the fact that she was trembling
violently.

She looked at him as he came quietly in. His lean, bronzed face, with
the purple scar of a sword-cut down one cheek, told her nothing. Only
she fancied that his mouth, under its narrow, black line of moustache,
looked stern.

He went straight up to her and laid his hand on her shoulder.

"Tell me what frightened you!" he said, looking down at her with keen
blue eyes that shone piercingly in his dark face.

She shook her head instantly, unable to meet his look.

"Please," she said beseechingly, "please don't ask me! I would so much
rather not."

"I have promised not to laugh at you," he reminded her gravely.

"I know," she said. "I know. But really, really, I can't. It was so
silly of me to be frightened. I am not generally silly like that.
But--somehow--to-day--"

Her voice failed her. He took his hand from her shoulder; and she knew
suddenly that, had he chosen, he could have compelled.

"Don't be distressed!