Part 63 (2/2)

”Beauvayse ...!”

She swayed to him, as a young palm sways before a breeze, and he caught her in his strenuous, young embrace, and held her firmly against him. Her old terrors wakened, and dreadful, unforgettable things stirred in the darkness, where they had lain hidden, and lifted hydra-heads. She cried out wildly, and strove to thrust him from her, but he held her close.

There was a shaking among the tangled growths of bush and cactus high up on the opposite bank, and Lynette realised that Beauvayse's arms no longer held her. She leaned back against the boulder, panting and trembling, and saw Beauvayse's revolver glitter in his steady hand, as something came cras.h.i.+ng down through the tangled jungle upon the edge of the farther sh.o.r.e, and a heavily-built man in khaki pushed through the shoulder-high growth of reeds, and leaped upon a rock that had a swirl of water round it. It was Saxham.

”Miss Mildare!” called the strong, vibrating voice.

She faltered:

”It--it is Dr. Saxham.”

”And what the devil does Dr. Saxham want?” was written in Beauvayse's angry face. But he called out as he lowered his revolver-hand:

”You've had rather an escape of getting shot, Saxham, do you know? You might have been a Boer or a buffalo. Better be more careful next time, if you're anxious to avert accidents.”

Saxham was a little like the buffalo as he lowered his head and surveyed the alert, virile young figure and the insolent, high-bred face from under ominously scowling brows. He made no answer; only laid one finger upon the b.u.t.t of his own revolver, and the slight action fanned Beauvayse's annoyance and resentment to a white-heat, as perhaps Saxham had intended.

He sprang upon another boulder that was in the mid-swirl of the current, and spoke again.

”Miss Mildare, I was walking on one of the native paths that have been made in the bush there”--he indicated the bank behind him--”when I heard you cry out. I am here, at your service, to offer you any help or protection that is in my power to give.”

Lynette looked at him vaguely. Beauvayse, crimson to the crisp waves upon his forehead and the white collar-line above the edge of his jacket, answered for her.

”Miss Mildare does not require any help or protection other than what I am privileged to place at her disposal. You had better go on with your walk, Doctor. You know the old adage about two being company?”

He laughed, but his voice had quivered with fury, and the hand that held the revolver shook too. And his eyes seemed colourless as water against the furious crimson of his face. Still ignoring him, Saxham said, his own square, pale face turned full upon Lynette, and his vivid blue eyes constraining her:

”Miss Mildare, I am at your commands. Tell me to cross the river and take you back to the ladies of the Convent, or order me to continue my walk. In which case I shall understand that the familiarities of Lord Beauvayse are not unwelcome to you.”

”By G.o.d ...! You----”

Beauvayse choked, then suddenly remembered where and how to strike. But he waited, and Saxham waited, and still she did not speak.

”Am I to go or stay? Kindly answer, Miss Mildare!”

Beauvayse's eyes were on her. He said to her below his breath:

”Tell him to go!”

She stammered:

”Th--thank you. But--I--I--had rather you went on.”

Beauvayse saw his opportunity, and added, with an intolerable smile:

”My 'familiarities,' as you are pleased to term them, being more acceptable to a lady than the attentions of the Dop Doctor.”

Saxham started as though an adder had flashed its fangs through his boot.

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