“Talking to Rosebury, and before then she was with Hilton. I fancy they were having words. Well, perhaps I ought hardly to say that; but Hilton was certainly remonstrating angrily.”
“When was that?”
“Half-past ten or eleven; I cannot say for certain.”
“Let us go and see Hilton,” said Mr Perowne; “but stay. Am I to believe you, Harley?”
“As you please, Mr Perowne,” said the Resident, with dignity. “Why should you doubt my word?”
“I do not doubt it!” cried Mr Perowne, catching his hand. “Pity me, Harley. I seem cold and strange; but I love that girl, and she is gone.”
He gasped painfully as he spoke, but smiled sadly directly after as the Resident warmly grasped his hand.
“One minute,” said the Resident; and hastily adding something to his clothing, he joined his visitor again, and the two sallied forth into the still, hot night, to make their way to the little fort, which was stronghold and barracks in one.
Here they were challenged by another sentry, for, peaceful times as they were, the military arrangements were always kept upon the sternest war footing.
“We want to see Captain Hilton,” said Mr Harley, in his quick, commanding way.