Later, she remembered with what tenderness he gathered her hands again into his own, holding them reverently. At the time she realized nothing but the monstrous pity of his wasted life.
"It isn't true!" she sobbed. "You would not sacrifice your friends?"
"Never!" said Carlyon sharply.
He paused. Then—"You must go, Averil," he said. "There are two sentries on the Buddhist road, and the password is 'Empire.' After that-straight to Akbar. The moon is rising, and no one will speak to you or attempt to stop you. You will not be afraid?"
"I trust you," she said very earnestly.
Ten minutes later, as the moon shot the first silver streak above the frowning mountains, a white horse flashed out on the road beyond the camp—a white horse bearing a white-robed rider.
On the edge of the camp one sentry turned to another with wonder on his face.
"That messenger's journey will be soon over," he remarked. "An easy target for the black fiends!"
In the mountains a dusky-faced hillman turned glittering, awe-struck eyes upon the flying white figure.
"Behold!" he said. "The Heaven-sent rides to the moonrise even as he foretold. The time draws near."