Lechworthy seemed quite reassured. He said good-night to Pryce and Hilda, and went off, taking Hilda with him.
Pryce turned on Tiva and Ioia. He laughed heartily at them. He made comic imitations of their wailing and lament. They ceased to weep, and became very angry. And suddenly Dr Pryce became very serious. He spoke to them in the native tongue. He gave them various instructions. There were some simple things which he wanted them to do, but they were things that might make a good deal of difference. They were quick to understand. They had great faith in Dr Pryce, even if he sometimes made them very angry. As he sent them off, Hilda came back into the room again.
“What were you saying to them?” she asked.
“Oh—telling them not to be silly.”
She clutched his arm. “I want to come with you, dear. Let me. You know that I can shoot.”
He was very gentle with her. “Yes,” he said, as he caressed her hair, “you’re a good shot, and this is splendid of you. Well, it will only be waiting and watching for a long, long time yet. And if you were there, I’m afraid I should be watching you most of the time, instead of—other things. Most probably there’ll be nothing happening at all, and you’d be up all night to no purpose, and I should feel bad about it. But if the very worst did happen, and one of these idiots did get past me and up to the house, it would be a great comfort to know that there was a revolver there waiting for him, and waiting where he would least expect it.”
He managed to persuade her that it was in the house that she would be of the greatest help. “I wish you could get to sleep,” he said.
She shook her head. “I would if I could,” she said simply. “I like to do everything you say.”
“Well, lie down at any rate.”
“I will. You know my window. You might come there sometimes, if you get a chance, to tell me how things are going.”