She thanked him with a smile and went in.
He followed her and waited upon her with all a woman's solicitude.
For a while she suffered him in silence, then suddenly, "Peter," she said, "what was the messenger like?"
Peter hesitated momentarily. Then, "He was old, mem-sahib," he said, "old and ragged, not worthy of your august consideration."
She turned in her chair. "Was he—was he anything like—that—that holy man—Peter, you know who I mean?" Her face was deathly as she uttered the question.
"Let my mem-sahib be comforted!" said Peter soothingly. "It was not the holy man—the bearer of evil tidings."
"Ah!" The words sank down through her heart like a stone dropped into a well. "But I think the tidings were evil all the same. Did he say what it was? But—" as a sudden memory shot across her, "I ought not to ask. I wish—I wish the captain—sahib would come back."
"Let my mem-sahib have patience!" said Peter gently. "He will soon come now."
The blue jay laughed at the gate gleefully, uproariously, derisively. Stella shivered.
"He is coming!" said Peter.