There was the route to be planned, and where to have horses waiting for him on his return; leave to be got from headquarters and arrangements to be made for his absence; double arms to be prepared, so that Anthony might be able to fight for himself if the need arose; food for two to be prepared and packed—medicines and bandages!
To avoid rousing the suspicions of any of the Umlimo’s spies that might be in the town, Maurice decided to leave about an hour after midnight, when all the boys were in their quarters asleep. Thus even speculation would be unaroused. Makupi was not to travel openly with him, but to meet him at various given points, guide him, and disappear again until they reached the final place selected to hide in until an opportunity for the rescue occurred.
There was little time for reflection during those rushing hours of preparation: but when at last all was complete and ready for Maurice’s departure within the hour, I had that to think on which gave me pause.
Handsome and business-like in his khaki and leather, my husband sat down at his desk to put in order some papers dealing with the police work during his absence. It would only take him a quarter of an hour or so he told me, then there would be time for a last talk together before his horse came round.
“Will you come to my room then?” I said in a low voice, and swiftly left him.
Strange thoughts were mine as I stood at my dressing-table, combing my hair with shaking hands, until the little short curls lay like wallflower petals on my forehead, and my ghostlike face was framed in waves of bronze. Yes, my face was ghostlike. I was obliged to take some powered rouge and introduce a subtle pale rose flush to the faint hollows of my cheeks, and with a little camel’s-hair brush to outline carefully the curve of my white lips with liquid crimson. It was a difficult process for there was a mist before my eyes, and my hand trembled so much that I sometimes made a false line and had to wipe all out and begin again. For it would not do to let Maurice see that I had had recourse to make-up. His eyes were strangely keen those days, and his vision clear, like his skin. I wondered would he notice the look in my eyes. Within the next hour I must veil them often with my lashes lest they betray me.
When all was finished I was very charming to look at: a slim, subtle-looking woman, with bronze hair and a curved mouth, bare armed and white bosomed, in a low cut gown of black lace.
Only the strange shadow in my eyes could not be treated with. It looked out like a desperate hunted thing, but it would not come forth. I knew it well. It was the shadow of the soul I had given to Anthony Kinsella, awaiting affrightedly for the desolation I was going to work upon it before Anthony Kinsella came riding back into my life to claim it. It knew that I was resolute to sign and seal myself away to Maurice Stair before that hour, and it was sick unto death.
But the thing had to be. I had practically accepted it on that sinister night six months past, when the black vultures swarmed and the eyes of the Mother of Consolation terribly accused me. It had come nearer and nearer with every fresh victory Maurice gained over his devils. I had always known there was to be no escape. But, ah, God! why had I not embraced my fate before this hour in which I knew that Anthony still dreamed of me behind the hills?