Kamis was desperate and urgent. He cast a wild eye towards the man on the top of the wall, and went on with agitated earnestness.
"I tell you, you don't know. It 's enough that you were here with a Kafir and he kissed your hand." He slapped his forehead in an agony. "Oh, I ought to be hanged for that. They 'll never believe—nobody will. In this country that sort of thing has only one meaning—a frightful one. I can't bear it. If you don't go"—he gulped and spoke aloud—"I 'll go up and kill him before your eyes."
"Now, now!" The voice remonstrated in startled tones.
Margaret still had her hand on his arm, and could feel that he was trembling. She had recovered from the shock of the surprise and was anxious to purge the situation of the melodramatic character which it seemed to have assumed. Kamis' whispered fears failed to convince her.
"You 'll do nothing of the kind," she said. "I don't care what people think. Speak to the man or I will."
Kamis lifted his head obediently.
"Come down," he said. "Come down and say what you want."
Mr. Bailey recovered his smile as he shook his head.
"I can say it here," he replied. "Don't you worry, Snowball; it won't strain my voice."
Kamis gulped. "What do you want?" he repeated.