“Yes,” said the Resident, quietly. “I do not believe in the present theory of the disappearance, so I shall try these people. If Murad is playing us false, why then—”
“Well, why don’t you finish?”
“I fear,” said the Resident, fiercely, “that I shall go farther than to exact stern justice for this act; for when a man’s feelings are touched as mine are now—”
He did not finish, but turned sharply away, as if all this was more than he could bear.
That night the doctor whispered to his wife to keep her counsel, and not to fret about those who were lost, for Neil Harley was deeply moved; and if something startling did not come out of it before many days were past, he, Dr Bolter, was no man.
Volume Two—Chapter Seventeen.
Becoming Humbled.
The secret of the peculiarly-scented water was explained: it was a stain, prepared for the purpose, and face, neck, hands, arms were no longer those of Helen Perowne—whose complexion was acknowledged even by her detractors to be perfect—for as she again gazed within the limits of that little badly-reflecting glass, it was to see that her countenance now was as swarthy as that of the darkest of the Malays by whom she was attended.