“I suppose so. Your friend couldn’t find the way otherwise.”
“Of course! Brace up, Rawley, and thank your stars for your good fortune. You’ll have important things to tell me when you return.” For all his cheering manner, Mr. Vancouver could not conceal his contempt. To me he said: “Give the king my thanks. Tell him that his kind offer is gratefully accepted, and that Mr. Rawley will be ready at any time.”
Rawley was a bluish white.
“Very well,” he faintly said; “I’ll have to go, I suppose, but who knows what is really to be done with me? I don’t———” With a gesture Mr. Vancouver stopped the indiscreet speech.
“Give the king my message of thanks and grateful acceptance,” he snapped out in his old business-like way. “Mr. Rawley will go whenever he is summoned.”
I bowed, and turned to leave, but found Annabel blocking the door. Her eyes were wide with surprise. She had never before seen natives near the camp at night, and never one alone. With unexpected firmness she refused to let me pass.
“Father, Mr. Rawley, what does this mean? Where is Mr. Rawley going?”
The men sat dumb. Annabel’s instinct told her that treachery was in the air.
“Does Captain Mason know about this?” she asked.
Mr. Vancouver was the first to recover, but he underestimated his daughter’s shrewdness.