But the physician was wrong. It quivered once more—the cold thing they held—the ice-like hand clung once more to the woman’s fingers—Major Crespin raised himself a little, something very human, alive, hate and baffled defeat, gleamed through his dead eyes.
“Damn you”—he said clearly and bitterly—acknowledging defeat—“damn you—none!”
Antony Crespin had gone. His corpse slithered back in their arms.
“Antony!”
But she knew that he would not answer her again.
She drew his head to her breast—and Traherne rose, and left them together.
“All over, eh?” Rukh asked him quietly.
Dr. Traherne nodded.
A rougher noise muffled the woman’s quiet sobbing. Native soldiers burst through the corridor door, and rushed pell-mell to the Raja. One spoke to him wildly, two, not waiting the order, rushed on Traherne.
The man that had spoken, pointed to the open window. The Raja went to it calmly, and looked out over the narrow balcony, and strolled back till he stood facing Traherne but a few feet away.