Afterwards. Kathlyn Rhodes
girl!" She was nearly as tall as he, a stately young woman, in truth, but suddenly he saw her as a frightened child. "You've been braver—much braver than I—and I wish to God I could have got you safely out of this! What do you say? Shall we break open the door and make a dash for it? We might win through—if the guards were taken by surprise——"
"Have you forgotten the high wall of the courtyard—and the great gates which can only be opened by three men?" He had forgotten, and her reminder seemed to close the last avenue of escape. "No, Dr. Anstice, that's not the way out. But——" A sudden noise outside made her start, and her voice grew hoarse suddenly and broke. "Oh, you won't fail me, will you? You have my revolver safe?"
"Yes." It lay safely hidden in an inner pocket, its tiny size alone having prevented its discovery by alien hands. "I have it in my pocket. There's only one cartridge, but that will be enough if—if we have need of it."
"Thank you, Dr. Anstice." To his surprise and admiration she had regained her courage, the threatened collapse of the previous moment gone for ever. "Then I can wait quite calmly. But"—her blue eyes met his very fully—"you won't delay too long? The moment they come you will—do what you have promised?"
"Yes, dear." In that second he forgot that their acquaintance was barely a week old, forgot that Hilda Ryder was the promised bride of another man. In this moment all external circumstances were forgotten, and nothing remained but the fact that they were called upon to face death together, and that to him alone could the girl look for comfort and help in the bitter hour which faced them. And he knew that his hand must be steady to do her service; that he must guide her footsteps unfalteringly to the gate through which she must pass in all her radiant youth; must support and strengthen her with hand and voice so that she might look the dark angel fearlessly in the face and pass that frowning portal with unflinching step and dauntless mien.
In the hour of death he must help her to be true to herself, so that no craven fear should sully her proud soul, and with this high resolve he turned to her with the little word of endearment on his lips, and laid his hand on her arm with a touch of real affection.
"I will do what I have promised when the moment comes." He felt a little shiver run over her body and his hand tightened on her arm. "Dear, it will soon be over. Really you need not be afraid."
"Tell me"—she turned to him, and the look in her eyes thrilled him through and through—"does it hurt—death when it comes like—that?"
"No." He spoke firmly. "You must not think of that. It is all over in a second—and you know"—he hesitated—"after all, this life is not everything."
"No." A new light touched her eyes for a moment, a light brighter than that of the rising sun. "There is a life beyond, isn't there? My mother died three years ago, and I have missed her sorely," said Hilda Ryder simply. "Surely she will greet me—there. But"—for a moment a great human yearning shook her soul—"it's hard to leave this dear life behind … the world is so wonderful, so lovely—I'm sure no other world can ever be half so beautiful as this."
A sudden clamour in the courtyard outside drove the colour from her cheeks, and instinctively she clung to him.
"Dr. Anstice, they're coming, aren't they? Is this—really—the end?"
For a second he listened, the blood running icily in his veins. Then he turned to her with a smile on his lips.
"Yes. I think they are coming—now. But"—his voice changed—"after all, there might be a chance—for you!"
Instead of reassuring her his words drove her to a white-lipped terror.
"You're not going to fail me now? Dr. Anstice, for the love of God, do as you promised—I will be brave, I will indeed—only don't let them take me—oh, don't!"
"It's all right, dear." He slipped his arm round her and drew her closely to him. "I won't fail you. I thought for a moment there might be a chance, but after all this is the better way."
"I knew you could be brave—for me," she said, very softly; and then, as a native voice outside the hut called an order, he felt her tremble in his arms. "They are coming—Dr. Anstice, let us say good-bye—or"—she actually smiled—"shall it be au revoir?"
"That, I think," he said steadily, holding the little revolver hidden in his hand as he spoke. "Dear, I'm going to do it now … close your eyes, and then you will know nothing till you open them to see your mother's face."
A long sigh shook her from head to foot. Then she closed her eyes obediently.
"Thank you." They were the last words he heard her say as he raised the revolver; and the next moment the merciful deed was done, and Hilda Ryder was safe for ever from the vengeance of the fanatics whom she had all unwittingly enraged.
Then, as the door opened at last, and two grave-faced Indians entered and motioned to Anstice to accompany them into the courtyard, he went out unflinchingly into the sunlight to meet his fate.
II
Late that night two British officers sat on the verandah of a bungalow in the hills, discussing the tragedy which had happened at dawn.
"It's an appalling affair altogether," said the elder man, as he threw away his half-smoked cigar. "If we had been five minutes earlier we should have saved the girl, and the man would have been spared a lifetime's regret."
"Yes." The other officer, who was young and very human, spoke slowly, and his eyes were thoughtful. "It is a good deal worse for the man than the woman, after all. Shall you ever forgot his face when he realized that he was saved? And by Jove it was a near thing for him, too."
"Too near to be pleasant," rejoined his companion grimly. "Of course, no one but a lunatic would have allowed the girl to enter that Temple. Don't you remember that affair a couple of years ago, when two American fellows only just got out in time?"
"Yes." Young Payton's voice was dubious. "But you must remember, sir, Anstice was a new-comer, and didn't know the yarn—and it is just possible Miss Ryder didn't know it either. Or she may have over-persuaded him."
"Well, she's paid for her folly, poor girl." Colonel Godfrey rose. "Her uncle's off his head about it, and what the fellow she was to marry will say remains to be seen. I suppose he'll want an explanation from Anstice."
"Why, you don't mean he'll blame the man for doing what he did?" The young officer spoke boyishly. "After all, it was the only thing to do. Fancy, if the girl had fallen into the hands of those fanatics! Shooting would have been a merciful death compared to the life she might have had to endure."
"Of course, of course!" Colonel Godfrey rose and moved to the steps of the verandah, where he stood looking absently out over the moonlit world. "It was the only thing to do—and yet, what a tragedy it has all been! By the way, where is Anstice? I've not seen him since we came in."
"He's in hospital. Got a nasty swipe across the shoulder in the rough-and-tumble before we got away, and it gave Dr. Morris an excuse to shove morphia into him to keep him quiet a bit. Of course when he comes round I expect he'll be pretty sick about it all, but at least the poor devil has got a few hours' respite."
"That's a blessing, anyway. Wonder what he'll do after this. Sort of thing to ruin a man's nerve, what?"
"Probably take to drink—or drugs," said Payton succinctly. "Some chaps would put a bullet through their brains, but I don't fancy Anstice is the sort to do that."
"Don't you?" For a second Colonel Godfrey hesitated, still looking out over the garden to where the line of the eternal snows glimmered white and passionless in the splendid moonlight. "Yet you know, my boy, one could hardly blame a man for blowing out his brains after a tragedy of this sort. No." With a last glance at the mystery of the snows he turned back to the lighted verandah and took out his cigar-case.