Her heart seemed to stop suddenly, then beat again with redoubled force.  Was he conscious?  Was he speaking to her?  Did he know what his words meant?  She waited eagerly for him to continue; but his hand closed on hers in a weak grip and, shutting his eyes, he seemed to sleep.  The girl sank on her knees beside the bed and stared at the pale face that in those few hours had grown so hollow and haggard.  Did he really love her?  The thought was joy—­until the damning memory of his other words recurred to her and a sharp pain pierced her heart.  There was another woman then—­one who held his promise.  Who was she?  He could not be secretly married, surely; no, it must be that he was engaged to some other girl.  But he loved her—­her, Muriel.  He wanted to say so, he had said so, though he strove to hold back, in honour bound.  He would play the game—­ah! that he would do at any cost to himself.  For she knew his chivalrous nature.  But he loved her—­she was sure of it.  Then the doubts came again—­did he know what he was saying?  Was it perhaps only delirium that spoke, the fever of his wounds?  The girl suffered an agony worse than death as she knelt beside the bed, her forehead on his hand.  And Noreen, entering softly an hour later, found her still crouched there, weeping bitterly but silently.

Shortly after sunrise Macdonald entered the house, wan and haggard, for he had not been to bed all night.  Besides the hours that he had spent with his patients he had been busy in the Fort all night.  He had to make an autopsy of the dead man, and, as the only officer available, investigate the crime, examine the witnesses and the prisoner who calmly confessed his guilt, and telegraph the news of the occurrences to Regimental, Divisional and Army Headquarters.  He found Major Hunt sleeping peacefully; but Wargrave woke as he tiptoed into the room and looked up at him, at first not seeing the women.  He was fully conscious and asked eagerly for an account of what had happened.  Noreen and Muriel shuddered at the delight with which he heard of the murderer’s capture; for they were too tender-hearted to understand his passionate desire to avenge the cruel slaying of one of his men.  When he turned away from Macdonald and saw Muriel his eyes shone eagerly for a moment, then seemed to dull as memory returned to him.  He begged Mrs. Dermot to forgive him for upsetting her domestic arrangements by his intrusion into the house.

Later in the morning Noreen was sitting alone with him, having sent Muriel to lie down for a couple of hours.  She had not been to bed herself, but after a bath and a change of clothing had given her children their breakfast and bidden them make no noise, because their beloved “Fwankie” was lying ill in the house.  Yet she could not forbear to smile when she saw the portentous gravity with which Eileen tiptoed out into the garden to tell Badshah the news and order him to be very quiet.