Tiva and Ioia cowered in a corner and wept. Hilda, in a dressing-gown with her hair loose, sat on the table and nursed a morocco-covered case. Pryce knew what was in it. They had practised shooting together. Lechworthy, fully dressed, paced the room, his hands locked behind him.
“Noisy crowd down there, ain’t they?” said Pryce, cheerily.
“What on earth is happening, Pryce?” asked Lechworthy. “It’s—it’s terrific.”
“Some of the natives seem to have turned a bit unruly—started bonfires and crackers, and little jokes of that kind. Disgraceful behaviour. Smith has gone down with the patrol to check their enthusiasm. They’ll all be quiet enough presently. They’re in a mortal funk of the King.”
“I’ve been out on the verandah,” said Lechworthy, “and it seemed much worse than you say. There was the sound of firing quite undoubtedly.”
“Very likely,” said Pryce. “Some of these chaps are fond of loosing off their guns when they get excited. I daresay it looked and sounded far worse than it really is. By the way, Hilda, I thought your medical attendant told you to go to bed not later than half-past ten.”
“So I did,” said Hilda. “I—I was disturbed.”
“Well, this little picnic won’t last long, and really it’s not worth sitting up for. You ought to be in bed, you know.”
“You don’t think there’s any chance the rioters will come this way?” asked Lechworthy.
“No,” said Pryce, boldly. “We’re taboo. The ordinary native would sooner stand up and be shot at than set foot inside this garden. Besides, Smith will hold them. And if by any chance a few should be lucky enough to get through and mad enough to come this way, Smith has not taken all the men; he’s left a small army to protect this place with myself as their general, and I wonder what funny job I shall take on next. Come, I don’t want to hurry anybody. But you can all sleep peacefully in your beds, and the sooner you go to them the sooner I can look after my chaps.”