“May I go with you, Doctor?” Isobel Hannay said, following him. “It is very hot down here.”
“Yes; come along, child; but there is no time to lose, for Bathurst must be near where they are likely to have posted their sentries by this time.”
“Everything quiet, Wilson?” he asked the young subaltern, who, with another, was on guard on the roof.
“Yes; we have heard nothing except a few distant shouts and noises out at the lines. Round here there has been nothing moving, except that we heard someone go out into the garden just now.”
“I went out with Bathurst,” the Doctor said. “He has gone in the disguise of a native to the Sepoy lines, to find out what are their intentions.”
“I heard the talk over it, Doctor. I only came up on watch a few minutes since. I thought it was most likely him when I heard the steps.”
“I hope he is beyond the sentries,” the Doctor said. “I have come up here to listen.”
“I expect he is through them before this,” Wilson said confidently. “I wish I could have gone with him; but of course it would not have been any good. It is a beautiful night—isn't it, Miss Hannay?—and there is scarcely any dew falling.”
“Now, you go off to your post in the corner, Wilson. Your instructions are to listen for the slightest sound, and to assure us against the Sepoys creeping up to the walls. We did not come up here to distract you from your duties, or to gossip.”
“There are Richards and another posted somewhere in the garden,” Wilson said. “Still, I suppose you are right, Doctor; but if you, Miss Hannay, have come up to listen, come and sit in my corner; it is the one nearest to the lines.”