And screamed?
No, called quietly and coolly for the butler, remembering that she had sent Nurse Beaton out, that her husband was at polo, that there were none but native servants in the house, and that if she raised an alarm they would take it, and with single heart consider each the safety of Number One.
“Boy!” she called calmly, though the room swam round her and a deadly faintness began to paralyse her limbs and loosen her hold upon the shelf—“Boy! Come here.”
Antonio Ferdinand Xavier D’Souza, Goanese butler, heard and came.
“Mem-Sahib?” quoth he, at the door of the go-down.
“Bring a lamp quickly,” said Lenore de Warrenne in a level voice.
The worthy Antonio, fat, spectacled, bald and wheezy, hurried away and peremptorily bade the hamal[[2]], son of a jungle-pig, to light and bring a lamp quickly.
[2] Footman and male “housemaid”.
The hamal, respectfully pointing out to the Bootlair Sahib that the daylight was yet strong and lusty enough to shame and smother any lamp, complied with deliberation and care, polishing the chimney, trimming the wick, pouring in oil and generally making a satisfactory and commendable job of it.
Lenore de Warrenne, sick, faint, sinking, waited … waited … waited … gripping the shelf and fighting against her over-mastering weakness for the life of the unborn child that, even in that awful moment, she prayed might be a daughter.