"And Dr. MacKay and his family—do you think that there is any use of our trying again to get him to go to some safer place?"
"No, there is no use. He has his students there, and a lot of his preachers and converts with their wives and families. To send them to any of the interior towns would mean Sin-tiam over again. They are in less danger here from the French shells than they would be from the heathen mobs. He will not leave them. If they are going to be in danger, he will be in danger with them."
"I fancied that it would be that way with him. Well, I think all the more of him for it. Now I must go and get my family down to the rendezvous and see that the rest of the British residents are under the best cover possible. Hallo! Who's that on the beach road below the custom house?"
"The commissioner, Mr. MacAllister, and Miss MacAllister," said Sinclair, who had his glasses on them.
"What the deuce are they doing there?
"Looking for a good place from which to see the fun," laughed Sinclair, though his face showed more anxiety than mirth.
"Boville ought to have more sense," snapped the consul. "Last evening he was in a great fluster about seeing that everybody was safe at the rendezvous before the ball began. But I suppose that Miss MacAllister has coaxed him, and he couldn't resist."
"Quite likely," replied the doctor, while an odd little smile played around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. "They are turning back now. Mr. MacAllister has taken charge. He has the young lady by the arm and they are heading for home."
"By Jove! she needs some one whom she can't twist round her fingers."
The two men laughed; Sinclair a little doubtfully, as if he was not too sure that such a thing was possible; the consul with the air of conscious superiority which needs not fear. They little knew what the day had in store for them.