“No, thanks; I don’t want any more. Maurice, has anything happened to him? Do you really know where he is?”
“Can’t you let the poor chap alone?” demanded Maurice desperately. “He hasn’t escaped by himself and left us in the lurch—I can tell you that, at any rate.”
“No, but has he been taken away? I believe something has happened. Tell me honestly, Maurice; where is he?”
“They took him away early this morning,” admitted Maurice. “He thought himself it was out of spite for his trying to get us rescued. He asked me to say how sorry he was not to bid you good-bye.”
“Good-bye? Then he thought—— They weren’t going to kill him?”
“How can I tell? They didn’t do it when I was there.”
“But you think they have done it? And you let them?”
“Look here,” said Maurice; “I’d better tell you all I know, and you can see what you think.” He told his story as fast as he could, with involuntary pauses here and there.
“Then there can be no doubt,” said Zoe slowly at last. “He is dead now.”
“I admire you both,” said Eirene, with her gracious air of distributing praise impartially. “Your duty was to the living, and he knew it. He could only die, and he did that well. Some day——”