"But what of … him!"
Miska pointed toward the eastern wall of the room in which they stood.
Chunda Lal clenched his hands convulsively and turned his eyes in the same direction.
"It is of him," he replied in a voice of suppressed vehemence, "it is of him I would speak." He bent close to Miska's ear. "In the creek, below the house, is lying the motor-boat. I go to-day to bring it down for him. He goes to-night to the other house up the river. To-morrow I am gone. Only you remaining."
"Yes, yes. He also leaves England to-morrow."
"And you?"
"I go with him," she whispered.
Chunda Lal glanced apprehensively toward the door. Then:
"Do not go with him!" he said, and sought to draw Miska into his arms.
"O, light of my eyes, do not go with him!"
Miska repulsed him, but not harshly.