"Oh, I knew you would come!" she gasped, with a hysterical little laugh. "I—I sent that—like Kurnavati sent her bracelet—to Humayun—only—you came—in time!"
Whereupon her head dropped back and the starlight shone upon cool, lustrous features. But she was not cool. Trent felt the heat of her body, and, apprehensive, he placed his hand upon her forehead; let it slip down until it touched the pulse in her throat; drew a sharp breath and swore. Her eyes were open—glassy, staring eyes that looked at him without seeing.
"Miss Charteris!" he said. "Where are your porters? Who's with you? You're not here alone, are you?"
She did not answer. The lids sank over her eyes, and he knew she had fainted. He looked about irresolutely. Through the trees, in the direction of his camp, he saw a quick flash.
"There was nobody else here when you first came?" he asked Masein; then, as the Lisu answered negatively, commanded: "Look in the tent."
Masein obeyed. His expression when he emerged told Trent it was empty. The Englishman lifted the girl in his arms.
"Wait here a few minutes," he instructed. "If anybody comes, report it to me."
With that he turned and strode back along the bridle-path, laboring under the weight of the girl's body.
Frequent flashes illuminated earth and sky; thunder grumbled, approaching closer with every roll. A wind had sprung up and was rustling the leaves overhead. Trent hurried, fearing the storm would break before he reached camp.
When he finally came to the sand-spit the wind was wildly whipping the tent-flap. The stars had gone, and lightning, streaks following in rapid succession, reflected a livid, sick hue upon the river. The girl was conscious when he placed her upon his cot. She clung to his hands.