“So we began to shoot and knocked over a lot of them, but Quick got that arrow through his shoulder.  Three times they came on like that, and three times we drove them back.  At last our cartridges ran low, and we only had our revolvers left, which we emptied into them.  They hung a moment, but moved forward again, and all seemed up.

“Then Quick went mad.  He snatched the sword of a dead Abati and ran at them roaring like a bull.  They hacked and cut at him, but the end of it was that he drove them right out of the passage, while I followed, firing past him.

“Well, those who were left of the blackguards bolted, and when they had gone the Sergeant tumbled down.  The women and I carried him back here, but he never said another word, and at last you turned up.  Now he’s gone, God rest him, for if ever there was a hero in this world he was christened Samuel Quick!” and, turning aside, the Professor pushed up the blue spectacles he always wore on to his forehead, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

With grief more bitter than I can describe we lifted up the body of the gallant Quick and, bearing it into Maqueda’s private apartment, placed it on her own bed, for she insisted that the man who had died to protect her should be laid nowhere else.  It was strange to see the grim old soldier, whose face, now that I had washed his wounds, looked calm and even beautiful, laid out to sleep his last sleep upon the couch of the Child of Kings.  That bed, I remember, was a rich and splendid thing, made of some black wood inlaid with scrolls of gold, and having hung about it curtains of white net embroidered with golden stars, such as Maqueda wore upon her official veil.

There upon the scented pillows and silken coverlet we set our burden down, the work-worn hands clasped upon the breast in an attitude of prayer, and one by one bid our farewell to this faithful and upright man, whose face, as it chanced, we were never to see again, except in the glass of memory.  Well, he had died as he had lived and would have wished to die—­doing his duty and in war.  And so we left him.  Peace be to his honoured spirit!

In the blood-stained ante-room, while I dressed and stitched up the Professor’s wounds, a sword-cut on the head, an arrow-graze along the face, and a spear-prick in the thigh, none of them happily at all deep or dangerous, we held a brief council.

“Friends,” said Maqueda, who was leaning on her lover’s arm, “it is not safe that we should stop here.  My uncle’s plot has failed for the moment, but it was only a small and secret thing.  I think that soon he will return again with a thousand at his back, and then——­”

“What is in your mind?” asked Oliver.  “To fly from Mur?”

“How can we fly,” she answered, “when the pass is guarded by Joshua’s men, and the Fung wait for us without?  The Abati hate you, my friends, and now that you have done your work I think that they will kill you if they can, whom they bore with only till it was done.  Alas! alas! that I should have brought you to this false and ungrateful country,” and she began to weep, while we stared at each other, helpless.