“You must leave the bungalow—I found out to-day where you are staying. There is a new danger there—the mountain people think you are a revenue officer. I told one of them—”
“Yes?”
“—that you are not! That is enough. Now hurry away. You must find your horse and go.”
He bent and kissed her hand.
“You trust me; that is the dearest thing in the world.” His voice faltered and broke in a sob, for he was worn and weak, and the mystery of the night and the dark silent garden wove a spell upon him and his heart leaped at the touch of his lips upon her fingers. Their figures were only blurs in the dark, and their low tones died instantly, muffled by the night. She opened the gate as he began to promise not to appear before her again in any way to bring her trouble; but her low whisper arrested him.
“Do not let them hurt you again—” she said; and he felt her hand seek his, felt its cool furtive pressure for a moment; and then she was gone. He heard the house door close a moment later, and gazing across the garden, saw the lights on the veranda flash out.
Then with a smile on his face he strode away to find Oscar and the horses.
CHAPTER XVIII
AN EXCHANGE OF MESSAGES
When youth was lord of my unchallenged fate,
And time seemed but the vassal of my will,
I entertained certain guests of state—
The great of older days, who, faithful still, Have kept with me the pact my youth had made.