She realized that they had come to a standstill, and mechanically she raised herself to obey him.

As she groped for the step, he grasped her arm.  “Get on to the stoep!  There’s going to be rain.  I’ll be with you in a second.”

She thanked him, and found herself on the ground.  A man in front of her was calling out unintelligibly, and somewhere under cover a woman’s voice was uplifted in shrill tones of dismay.  This latter sound made her think of the chattering of an indignant monkey, so shrill was it and so incessant.

A dark pile of building stood before her, and she blundered towards it, not seeing in the least where she was going.  The next moment she kicked against some steps, and sprawled headlong.

Someone—­Burke—­uttered an oath behind her, and she heard him leap to the ground.  She made a sharp effort to rise, and cried out with a sudden pain in her right knee that rendered her for an instant powerless.  Then she felt his hands upon her, beneath her.  He lifted her bodily and bore her upwards.

She was still half-dazed when he set her down in a chair.  She held fast to his arm.  “Please stay with me just a moment—­just a moment!” she besought him incoherently.

He stayed, very steady and quiet beside her.  “Are you hurt?” he asked her.

She fought with herself, but could not answer him.  A ridiculous desire to dissolve into tears possessed her.  She gripped his arm with both hands, saying no word.

“Stick to it!” he said.

“I—­I’m an awful idiot!” she managed to articulate.

“No, you’re not.  You’re a brave girl,” he said.  “I was a fool not to warn you.  I forgot you didn’t know your way.  Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”

“My knee—­a little,” she said.  “It’ll be all right directly.”  She released his arm.  “Thank you.  I’m better now.  Oh, what is that?  Rain?”

“Yes, rain,” he said.

It began like the rushing of a thousand wings, sweeping irresistibly down from the hills.  It swelled into a pandemonium of sound that was unlike anything she had ever heard.  It was as if they had suddenly been caught by a seething torrent.  Again the lightning flared, dancing a quivering, zigzag measure across the verandah in which she sat, and the thunder burst overhead, numbing the senses.

By that awful leaping glare Sylvia saw her companion.  He was stooping over her.  He spoke; but she could not hear a word he uttered.

Then again his arms were about her and he lifted her.  She yielded herself to him with the confidence of a child, and he carried her into his home while the glancing lightning showed the way.

The noise within the house was less overwhelming.  He put her down on a long chair in almost total darkness, but a few moments later the lightning glimmered again and showed her vividly the room in which she lay.  It was a man’s room, half-office, half-lounge, extremely bare, and devoid of all ornament with the exception of a few native weapons on the walls.