“We must keep a stiff upper lip, and play the game,” Crespin insisted.
“You mean pretend to take part in his ghastly comedy of hospitality and politeness?” his wife protested.
“If you can,” Traherne urged quickly, “it would be wisest. We must play the game indeed, and not lose a trick we can possibly help. His delight in showing off his European polish is all in our favor. But for that he might separate us and lock us up. We must avoid that at all costs.”
“Oh, yes, yes—” Her eyes widened with horror at the suggestion, and her words were almost a sob.
“You’ve always had plenty, of pluck, Lu,” Crespin said proudly, but the hand he laid again on her shoulder trembled in spite of him. But his grave voice was steady. “Now’s the time to show it.”
She met his eyes more kindly than she often had of late, and nodded firmly. “You can trust me,” she told him. She drew the shawl carefully over her shoulders again, a cold smile on her mouth, and her hands did not tremble. “The thought of the children knocked me over at first, but I’m not afraid to die,” she added simply. It was perfectly true. She came of stock that never had been afraid to die. And, a little narrow in some ways, but good and sound in all, such women as this have no need to be afraid to die. “Hush!” she whispered suddenly, “the noise has stopped.” And the cluttering sound had ceased as abruptly as it had begun, and the lights had gone up as suddenly.
“Yes,” Crespin said, “they’ve left off transmitting, and ceased to draw on the electric current.”
“He’ll be back presently, then,” Traherne warned, flinging himself in an easy chair. “Don’t let us seem to be consulting.”
Lucilla leaned back luxuriously on the ottoman cushions, and readjusted a fold of the shawl—a lazy smile on her pallid face. Perhaps she felt its pallor, for she crushed and pinched it quickly with strong determined fingers. Crespin watched her proudly, as he selected and lit a cigar, and took the place where the Raja had stood with his back to the fire. It was devilish bad to be in the hellish fix they were in, but it was good to have such a wife—staunch and sporting all through. Then his face darkened with a new dismay. “Curse it!” he groaned, “I can’t remember the wave-length and the call for Amil-Serai. I was constantly using it at one time.”
“It’ll come back to you,” Traherne assured him encouragingly.