Jaffir collected all his strength. “She hoped no more,” he uttered, distinctly. “The order came to her while she mourned, veiled, apart. I didn't even see her face.”
Lingard swayed over the dying man so heavily that Wasub, standing near by, hastened to catch him by the shoulder. Jaffir seemed unaware of anything, and went on staring at the beam.
“Can you hear me, O Jaffir?” asked Lingard.
“I hear.”
“I never had the ring. Who could bring it to me?”
“We gave it to the white woman—may Jehannum be her lot!”
“No! It shall be my lot,” said Lingard with despairing force, while Wasub raised both his hands in dismay. “For, listen, Jaffir, if she had given the ring to me it would have been to one that was dumb, deaf, and robbed of all courage.”
It was impossible to say whether Jaffir had heard. He made no sound, there was no change in his awful stare, but his prone body moved under the cotton sheet as if to get further away from the white man. Lingard got up slowly and making a sign to Wasub to remain where he was, went up on deck without giving another glance to the dying man. Again it seemed to him that he was pacing the quarter-deck of a deserted ship. The mulatto steward, watching through the crack of the pantry door, saw the Captain stagger into the cuddy and fling-to the door behind him with a crash. For more than an hour nobody approached that closed door till Carter coming down the companion stairs spoke without attempting to open it.
“Are you there, sir?” The answer, “You may come in,” comforted the young man by its strong resonance. He went in.
“Well?”