THE SACRED FIRE "Well?
Is she all right ?" Almost angrily the colonel flung the question as his second-in-command came back heavy-footed through the rain.

He had been through a nasty period of suspense himself during Merryon's absence.
Merryon nodded.

His face was very pale and his lips seemed stiff.
"She has--gone, sir," he managed to say, after a moment.
"Gone, has she ?" The colonel raised his brows in astonished interrogation.

"What! Taken fright at last?
Well, best thing she could do, all things considered.

You ought to be very thankful." He dismissed the subject for more pressing matters, and he never noticed the awful whiteness of Merryon's face or the deadly fixity of his look.
Macfarlane noticed both, coming up two hours later to report the death of one of the officers at the bungalow.
"For Heaven's sake, man, have some brandy!" he said, proffering a flask of his own.