"Will you come with me?" he asked. She made no answer. He felt his lips trembling. "I could make you," he broke out.
"I think not."
"You mean that, sooner or later, you would escape me? I daresay. You are brave enough. But I ask you to come with me of your own free will—as my mistress—as anything on earth I choose—to share my life—whatever future I have—faithfully——"
"Aren't you wasting time, Mr. Barclay?" Tristram interposed.
Barclay remained with his eyes on Sigrid's face.
"If you will come with me, Sigrid, Major Tristram can go back to Gaya."
She seemed scarcely to hear him. He heard Tristram laugh.
"Isn't this all rather melodramatic, Barclay? Do you really imagine I am anxious to save my life on such terms? Why don't you get on with things?"
Barclay swung round on his heel.
"And does my offer really amuse you? Are you amused at the death of a score or so of your countrymen up there in Gaya? That's what it amounts to. Mrs. Boucicault is giving a dinner to the station tonight. In three hours' time, the regiment mutinies, and your friends will be wiped out without being able to lift a hand—unless you warn them. Is that amusing?"