N'mika, the Wonderful Lover, shook his head.
"You are a woman, and you have not my strength," he said, half to himself, "and you are young. I have trusted you, and I am afraid."
She was silent.
If the man, her lover, did what she had told him to do in the frantic moment when she had been warned of her husband's return, she might have saved her life—and more.
He read her thoughts in part.
"You shall take no harm from me," he said; "for I love you beyond understanding; and though I stand on the edge of death for my kindness, I will do no ill to you."
She sprang up. The fear in her eyes was gone; hate shone there banefully. He saw the look, and it scorched his very soul—and he heard.
It was the soft pad-pad of the king's guard, and he turned to greet Bimebibi's head chief.
His wife would have run to the guard, but N'mika's hand shot out and held her.
"Take him—take him!" she cried hoarsely "He will kill me—also he plots against the king, for he is Sandi's man!"