After a few commonplace words he took her fan from her hand and whispered to her behind it:
"There's a fellow on the veranda waiting to speak to you," he said. "Calls himself a friend."
Her heart leapt at the murmured words. She glanced hurriedly round. Everyone in the room was dancing. She had pleaded fatigue. She rose quietly and stepped to the window, Toby following.
She stood a moment on the threshold of the night and then passed slowly out. All about her was dark.
"Go on to the steps!" murmured Toby behind her. "I shall keep watch."
She went on with gathering speed. At the head of the veranda-steps she dimly discerned a figure waiting for her, a figure clothed in some white, muffling garment that seemed to cover the face. And yet she knew by all her bounding pulses whom she had found.
"Colonel Carlyon!" she said, and on the impulse of the moment she gave him both her hands.
His quiet voice answered her out of the strange folds. "Come into the garden a moment!" he said.
She went with him unquestioning, with the confidence of a child. He led her with silent, stealthy tread into the deepest gloom the compound afforded. Then he stopped and faced her with a question that sent a sudden tumult of doubt racing through her brain.
"Will you take a message to Fort Akbar for me, Averil?" he said. "A matter of life and death."