'Oh ... h ... h ...!' shrieked the soldier. 'Who is that?'
'It is Trist ... you brute!'
But Huston lay motionless, with limp hands and open mouth. He was insensible.
Leaving him, Trist turned to Brenda, who was already holding him back with a physical force which even at that moment caused him a vague surprise.
'Theo! Theo!' she cried, 'what are you doing?'
He looked into her face sharply, almost fiercely—and she caught her breath convulsively at the sight of his eyes. They literally flashed with a dull blue gleam, which was all the more ghastly in so calm a face; for though he was ashen-gray in colour, his features were unaltered by any sign of passion. Even in his wild rage this man was incongruous.
'Has he hurt you?' he asked in a dull, hollow voice; and, while he spoke, his fingers skilfully touched her shoulder in a quick, searching way never learnt in drawing-rooms.
'No—no!' she cried impatiently. 'But you have killed him!'
She broke away from him and knelt on the floor, bending over the prostrate form of the soldier. Her bosom heaved from time to time with a bravely suppressed sob.
'Don't touch him,' said Trist, in an unconsciously commanding tone. 'He is all right.'