Stella gathered her property together in readiness for Peter.  Then she turned, somewhat stiff after her long journey, and found the door already swinging open and a man’s broad shoulders blocking the opening.

“How do you do?” said Monck.

She started at the sound of his voice.  His face was in the shadow, but in a moment his features, dark and dominant, flashed to her memory.  She bent to him swiftly, with outstretched hand.

“How good of you to meet me!  How is Tommy?”

He held her hand for an instant, and she was aware of a sharp tingling throughout her being, as though by means of that strong grasp he had imparted strength.  “He is about as bad as a man can be,” he said.  “Ralston has been with him all night.  I’ve borrowed his two-seater to fetch you.  Don’t waste any time!”

Her heart gave a throb of dismay.  The brief words were as flail-like as the rain.  They demanded no answer, and she made none; only instant submission, and that she gave.

She had a glimpse of Peter’s tall form standing behind Monck, and to him for a moment she turned as she descended.

“You will see to everything?” she said.  “You will follow.”

“Leave all to me, my mem-sahib!” he said, deeply bowing; and she took him at his word.

Monck had a military overcoat on his arm in which he wrapped her before they left the station-shelter.  Ralston’s little two-seater car shed dazzling beams of light through the dripping dark.  She floundered blindly into a pool of water before she reached it, and was doubly startled by Monck lifting her bodily, without apology, out of the mire, and placing her on the seat.  The beat of the rain upon the hood made her wonder if they could make any headway under it.  And then, while she was still wondering, the engine began to throb like a living thing, and she was aware of Monck squeezing past her to his seat at the wheel.

He did not speak, but he wrapped the rug firmly about her, and almost before she had time to thank him, they were in motion.

That night-ride was one of the wildest experiences that she had ever known.  Monck went like the wind.  The road wound through the jungle, and in many places was little more than a rough track.  The car bumped and jolted, and seemed to cry aloud for mercy.  But Monck did not spare, and Stella crouched beside him, too full of wonder to be afraid.

They emerged from the jungle at length and ran along an open road between wide fields of rice or cotton.  Their course became easier, and Stella realized that they were nearing the end of their journey.  They were approaching the native portion of Kurrumpore.

She turned to the silent man beside her.  “Is Tommy expecting me?” she asked.

He did not answer her immediately; then, “He was practically unconscious when I left,” he said.

He put on speed with the words.  They shot forward through the pelting rain at a terrific pace.  She divined that his anxiety was such that he did not wish to talk.