“Why not have a window open?” Elliott inquired, at last. “Don’t you find it hot here?”
“No. Leave them closed,” said Carlton, brusquely.
There was another long silence, while Carlton smoked imperturbably. Elliott began to feel slightly nervous; he scarcely knew why. Every one in the room seemed to be waiting for something.
“Damn the rain!” Sevier suddenly ejaculated with irritation, and Carlton rolled an admonishing eye upon him without speaking. Elliott set down his empty glass and arose.
“Have another drink,” urged Sevier. “Sit down.”
“No, thank you. I must go,” Elliott began.
“No. Sit down!” Carlton gruffly interrupted.
Taken by surprise, Elliott sat down. The rain splashed on the veranda in the silence.
“But I really must go. I have to get to the Peak,” he said again, once more getting up; but Sevier held up a warning hand. Outside was heard the rhythmical grunt of sedan-coolies. There were steps on the veranda. Sevier hurried to the door and opened it, and, to Elliott’s amazement, the missionary appeared in the lamplight, his face streaming with rain and perspiration, while he surveyed the group with an air of apprehension which he endeavoured to cover with dignity.