Finally he drew near and deliberately tapped the ashes from his half-smoked pipe upon the shining marble. The embers smouldered and went out. A black stain remained upon the dazzling white surface of the stone column. He looked at it for a moment or two, then turned and retraced his steps with grim precision.
When he reached the bungalow, he turned into the room in which they had dined; and sat down to write.
Time passed, but he took no note of it. It was past midnight ere he thrust his papers together at length and rose to go.
The main passage of the bungalow was bright with moonlight as he traversed it. A crouching figure rose up from a shadowed doorway at his approach. Peter the Great looked at him with reproach in his eyes.
Monck stopped short. He accosted the man in his own language, but Peter made answer in the careful English that was his pride.
"Even so, sahib, I watch over my mem-sahib until you come to her. I keep her safe by night as well as by day. I am her servant."
He stood back with dignity that Monck might pass, but Monck stood still. He looked at Peter with a level scrutiny for a few moments. Then: "It is enough," he said, with brief decision. "When I am not with your mem-sahib, I look to you to guard her."
Peter made his stately salaam. Without further words, he conveyed the fact that without his permission no man might enter the room behind him and live.
Very softly Monck turned the handle of the door and passed within, leaving him alone in the moonlight.