I caught a glimpse of Norah's triumphant eyes before the grass was burnt and the light fell. Lying at Archie's feet, I saw a paper torn in four."
EPILOGUE
Ross smoked a time in silence. At length he spoke. "Archie did not give in at once," he said. "His Scottish instincts put up a rearguard action. But Norah's account of Dick's death had won the day.
He protested indeed, but without his old conviction, that he must stand his trial and be formally exonerated. I dropped heavily on the suggestion. What was he thinking of? I asked. What was the use of dragging Norah through the mud of the courts, of giving to the press the story of her elopement? Was it fair to sacrifice her name on the altar of his exoneration?
Archie collapsed; it was never hard to put him in the wrong. Soon I left for bed. Husband and wife sat on by the fire. Bad perhaps for his fever but to the good of his happiness.
It was long before I slept. The duel I had witnessed was fought again in my head. At last I fell asleep, still wondering if Norah had told an inspired lie; if she had been rash enough to teach Changalilo the tale he had repeated; or if Dick had really fired before he died.
It was Changalilo who enlightened me.
Next day Norah went up to the Boma to report Ward's disappearance. She would not, I suppose, trust Archie in Abercorn. She gave me instructions to see to his soup in the middle of the morning. About eleven I went to the kitchen to find out if it was ready. I found Changalilo and the sukambali squatting on the ground, stirring a saucepan, with their backs towards me. I was wearing tennis shoes and my approach was unheard.
'Did the Mama think I had stolen the cartridge?' Changalilo was saying; 'I do not know.'