LEWIS got to his feet and blinked at the morning sun across the yard.
“That was a near shave. Phew, I hate being a target for sharpshooting! These devils are your friends the Bada-Mawidi.”
“The deuce they are,” said Andover lugubriously. “I always knew it. I’ve told Holm a hundred times, and now here is the beggar away sick and I am left to pay the piper.”
“I know. I met him in Bardur, and that’s why I’m here. He told me to tell you to mind the north gate.”
“More easily said than done. We’re too few by half here if things get nasty. How was the chap looking?”
“Pretty miserable. Thwaite and I put him to bed. Then they sent me off here, for I’ve got news for you. You know a man called Marker?”
Andover nodded.
“I was dining with him the day before yesterday, and yesterday morning I got a note from him. He says that he has heard from some private source that the Bada-Mawidi were arming and proposed an attack on Forza to-day. He thinks they may have got their arms from the other side, you know. At any rate he asked me to try to let you hear, and when I saw Holm last night and heard that such a thing was possible, I came off at once. I suppose Marker is the sort of man who should know.”
“What did Thwaite say?”
“He was keen that I should come at once. Do you think that it’s a false alarm?”