This was not what Elliott wanted, not what he had seen revealed suddenly between the blaze of the stars and the flame of the sea. But he would not tell her so—not yet. Not for anything would he shatter their open comradeship.
CHAPTER XII. OPEN WAR
The day after he returned from Formosa, Elliott received a reply to his cablegram, which said, simply:
“Find it. Buck up!
“Henninger.”
It was easy to give the order, Elliott thought. But during the next few days the heat was terrible, even for Hongkong. On the Peak, men sweltered; in the lower city, they died. It rained, without cease, a rain that seemed to steam up from the hot earth as fast as it fell, and, to add terror to discomfort, half a dozen cases of cholera were discovered in the Chinese city, and an epidemic was feared. Most of the offices employing white clerks closed daily at noon, and there was a great exodus of the foreign population to Yokohama.
On Sunday it cooled slightly, however, and the rain ceased. To gain what advantage they could of the respite, Margaret and Elliott walked out to the edge of the mountain-top, a quarter of a mile away, and spent the forenoon there. The missionary dozed at home; he slept a great deal during the hot weather.
They were returning for lunch, which Margaret persistently refused to call “tiffin,” and had almost reached the bungalow, when a man stepped down from the veranda and came toward them along the deeply shaded street. At the first glance Elliott thought he recognized the graceful, alert figure, and he was right. It was Sevier, who had just left the house.
The Alabaman stopped short when he met them, and lifted his hat, without, however, betraying any particular surprise.
“Good mo’nin’, Elliott. So you’re in Hongkong?”
“As you see,” replied Elliott, a trifle stiffly. “Were you looking for me?”