Without more ado Anstice complied.
"Miss Ryder made me promise that if the sun should rise before any help came to us I would shoot her with my own hand so that she should not have to face death—or worse—at the hands of our enemies."
"You thought it might be—worse?"
"Yes. My father was a doctor in China at the time of the Boxer rising," said Anstice with apparent irrelevance. "And as a boy I heard stories of—of atrocities to women—which haunted me for years. On my soul, Cheniston"—he spoke with a sincerity which the other man could not question—"I was ready—no, glad, to do Miss Ryder the service she asked me."
Twice Cheniston tried to speak, and twice his dry lips refused their office. At last he conquered his weakness.
"You waited till the sun rose ... and then ... you were sure ... you did not doubt that the moment had come?"
"No. I waited as long as I dared ... the sun had risen and we heard the clamour in the courtyard outside...."
"And so——" Again his parched lips would not obey his bidding.
"When the men were at the very door of the hut I carried out my promise," said Anstice steadily. "She closed her eyes ... I told her to, so that she should not be afraid to see death coming ... and then ..." at the recollection of that last poignant moment a slow shudder shook him from head to foot, "... it was all over in a second. She did not suffer—of that, at least, you may be certain."
Cheniston's hand was over his eyes; and for a space the room was very still.