The Rape Of Venice

Chapter 19

To Cheat the Moon

Roger felt a sudden wave of physical sickness rising in him. It was as though he had received a blow in the stomach; hot saliva welled up in his mouth. He turned his face away to hide the shattering effect that Gunston's words had had upon him. 'A month,' he was thinking. 'A month. By the end of it either Clarissa will be dead or her mind unhinged.'

He had never dabbled in magic, but he knew enough of it from hearsay to be aware that magicians regarded certain phases of the moon as more favourable than others for their conjurations, and particularly the full moon. It was eleven nights since he had escaped from Bahna, and the moon had then been in her last quarter. The dark period was now over and the light of the new sickle had silvered the rocky track during part of his ride the previous night; so there was at least a week to go before it would reach full. He tried to force from his mind the sickening possibility that Malderini might consider the dark period more suitable for his dark ceremony, and so have already performed it. The dreadful fact with which he was now faced was that in the next twenty-​eight days the moon would have passed through all her phases; so by refusing to act for a month Gunston was, in effect, declaring that Clarissa must be sacrificed.

For a moment he considered accusing Gunston of cowardice and calling him out. But Gunston, as the commander of a force in the field, could quite properly refuse to fight a duel until the campaign was over. If he waived that right, did fight and was killed, that would bring the rescue of Clarissa no nearer. Besides, it was not cowardice to refuse to pit his troops against such greatly superior forces now that there was no longer any possibility of Rai-​ul-​daula's bringing over a great part of the enemy.

It was on that; above all, that Roger had been counting. Fighting down his sick anger and striving to keep his voice steady, he asked: 'What on earth possessed you to send a letter to the Wazier?'

Gunston looked at him in surprise. 'You told me he was for us; so I was hoping to get speech with him. If he had slipped out of the city and come here last night, we could have concocted a plan. Given a definite assurance of his help. I would have attacked this morning, and…'

'But damn it, man! When I implored you ten days ago to bring your force up to Bahna, you said you'd not undertake an attack without reinforcements.'

'You forget that I was then under orders not to attack in any circumstances. Old Shore's new instructions created a very different situation. If, having talked with the Wazier personally, I'd felt I could trust him. I'd have gone ahead, and might by this morning be in Bahna.'

'What did you put in your letter to him?'

'Seeing that he is your friend. I made use of your name. I said only that you were in a great state of anxiety about Mrs. Brook and, should His Highness not see his way to handing her over immediately, I'd count it a civil act if he'd send someone here to report on her state of health to you personally-​hoping, of course, that he'd take the hint and come himself.'

'And he was given this at the same time as the Rajah was handed your ultimatum?'

'Why, yes. Jeckles had no opportunity of seeing him alone. His sudden downfall may have been from some quite other cause. I only suspect the letter because Jeckles told me later that no sooner had he given it to him than the Venetian demanded a sight of it; then the two of them began to yammer at one another in some heathen tongue. Yet there was nought in it that could fairly be said to compromise him.'

'Not in so many words, perhaps; but Malderini possesses psychic qualities that render him doubly dangerous. I would to God you had left well alone and awaited my return.'

Gunston gave an abrupt, unpleasant laugh. 'I see now how the land lies. You'd rather have your wife left longer than need be in the clutches of these devils than be deprived of the credit of rescuing her yourself.'

'Longer than need be!' Roger took him up with sudden fury,

' That comes well from you, who declare that she must be left to her fate for another month.'

'Had you brought me the redcoats and the guns…'

'Had you not bungled our present chances…'

'I acted for the best!'

'You acted like a fool!'

'By God, I've a mind to call you out for that!'

'At your service! Any time you wish!'

All memory that they had buried the hatchet only ten days before now gone from their minds, the two old enemies stood glaring at one another. But, after a moment, Roger gave a weary shrug.

'I spoke in haste. That is no apology. I'll meet you at some future time which is more convenient to us both. But for us to fight while you are in command here might jeopardise your career; and, as long as Clarissa is a prisoner, I owe it to her to risk a wound only on her account.'

'That suits me,' Gunston agreed. 'I doubt, though, that either of our tempers will support a month in each other's company; so you must excuse me if, while we are waiting for Sir Alured to send up more troops, I do not invite you to join my Headquarters' mess. Captain Laker and his officers will form their own mess when we get back to Bamanghati, and the cavalry always do themselves well, so you'll lose nothing by feeding with them.'

Thank you for the thought,' replied Roger, acidly. 'But your concern for me is needless. I am not going back to Bamanghati.'

'You mean to return to Calcutta and attempt to hasten matters?'

'No; I mean to stay here.'

Then you should be put in irons again. Staring at the turrets of Bahna will not free your lady; and do you remain lurking in these woods 'tis a certainty that you will find yourself a prisoner within twenty-​four hours of my drawing off my troops.'

'My escort will prove quite adequate to protect me. Even under Malderini's malign influence the Rajah, unless first attacked, is hardly likely to send his troops against a squadron of British horse.'

Your escort!' Gunston's pale blue eyes began to bulge. 'Captain Laker's squadron was sent up as a reinforcement. It has now come under my orders. If you elect to stay here, you stay alone. I intend that the squadron shall retire tonight on Bamanghati with the rest of my force.'

Roger's glance was cold and hard. 'In that you are quite mistaken. Had you been willing to fight a battle, the squadron would have come under your command. That, I could not prevent. But at least I was successful in persuading Sir John Shore that I am a more suitable person than yourself to order matters for the best in Bahna once the Rajah has been brought to heel. He has appointed me the Company's political agent in Bahna. The Company's political agents are entitled to adequate protection in the course of their duties. I might demand more of you; but I will content myself with Captain Laker's squadron.'

Taking his commission from his pocket, Roger showed it to Gunston, who glanced down it, then said: 'So be it. As the price of parting company with you, I count the temporary loss of the squadron cheap. But it is getting plaguey hot up here. Now that you have seen for yourself the impossibility of taking Bahna with the forces I have available, we had best go downstairs and at least attempt to be civil to one another for the next few hours.'

With the advance of the morning it had become intensely hot up on the flat roof, and both of them were already sweating profusely; so Roger was by no means loath to follow Gunston below. There, the latter sent for his principal officers and gave them their order of march in a retirement which was to begin two hours before sundown; it was also agreed that Laker should then take over the sprawling group of buildings, that the headquarters now occupied, as quarters for his squadron. Then, except for the sentries, they all slept through the heat of the day.

Dinner, with the habitual disregard of the British for unusual circumstances, was served according to custom at half-​past three. Despite the fact that four thousand Indians, all of whom would have taken joy in cutting their throats if a battle had started, were still concentrated within a mile and a half of them, the assembled officers cheerfully gorged themselves with roast meats, and washed their food down with liberal potations of claret and Madeira. Either belching freely or partially concealing their digestive processes with varying degrees of politeness, they then made their way back to their men, who had also been feeding to capacity, and an hour later the retreat began.

While Gunston's force was marching off, Roger again went up to the roof, and he saw that the Bahna army was also beating a retreat. Evidently the Rajah had now come to the conclusion that there would be no battle that day, and was withdrawing his troops into the city for the night.

After half-​an-​hour spent studying the walls of the city through a spy-​glass, Roger discussed the situation very fully with Philip Laker. He then disclosed his intention of attempting a forlorn hope if the Captain would support him in it with his squadron. At first Laker was distinctly dubious about committing his officers and men to such a desperate venture, but he felt that Gunston had behaved very ill towards Roger, which made him the more anxious to help him; and, after some discussion, he agreed that, if his subordinates proved willing to risk their lives in such an affair, he would take the responsibility for leading them.

The Lieutenants and Cornets were summoned and Roger explained his plan to them. They were mainly young men, mostly eager for a scrap; and, their Squadron Commander having clearly stated that this was a chance in a thousand for them to earn glory for their regiment, they were swiftly caught up in a wave of enthusiasm.

The hundred and eighty-​odd non-​commissioned officers and men were then paraded, and Roger addressed them. He said that within a few hours they might be ordered into action. If they were, it would be a desperate business and many of them might be dead before morning. But they would not be ordered to attack unless there was a fair chance of victory. Should the action prove successful, they would be hailed as heroes throughout the whole British army, and to enable them to celebrate he meant to distribute a thousand guineas amongst them. Any man who had no stomach for such a fight might take one pace to the rear, and he would be left to do a woman's task of getting breakfast ready for those who had survived the fray.

It was as wicked a blackmail as he had put on Sir John Shore; but the troops did not regard it in that light. As with British soldiers of every generation, from Agincourt to Plassey, they liked the idea of a scrap that had an element of the unusual about it and, provided they were given good leadership, were not afraid to enter one knowing that the odds would be against them. Not a man stepped back.

Roger then called for a dozen men willing to come with him on the specially hazardous first stage of the night's work. There was no lack of volunteers; so he had the officers pick him three men from each of the four troops, and placed them under a Cornet named Angus McCloud a gaily impudent young blade of whom he had formed a particularly good opinion on the march up from Calcutta.

Soon after darkness had fallen, the final arrangements were made; then there ensued a nerve-​racking period of waiting. The young moon was due to rise soon after midnight; so the initial stage of the operation had to be completed before that, otherwise the sentries who were certain to be posted on the walls might detect an approach to it, however cautiously made. On the other hand, the longer that could be allowed for the inhabitants of the city to settle down for the night, the better.

At half past ten Roger and McCloud set off on foot with their squad, avoiding the road but making across country for the great gate. A quarter of a mile from it they left the men lying in a ditch and went forward on their own. Through his spy-​glass earlier in the evening, Roger had located the house from which he had been let down by a rope, and made a careful estimate of its distance from the gate. The towers at either side of the gate now stood out as stark black masses against the star-​lit sky, so he had no difficulty in identifying the house. The windows in it that looked out over the country-​side were thirty feet from the ground and there were five of them in a single row. There was a light in only one, and it was not the one from which Roger had descended; but he felt that he was lucky to find even one which was apparently occupied.

McCloud, in accordance with their plan, went right up to the wall and took up a position with his back against it so that he could not be seen from above. Roger remained about twenty feet away from it and, taking a handful of pebbles from his pocket, began to throw them up at the lighted window. His fourth shot struck the wooden lattice-​work with a clatter that sounded abnormally loud in the stillness of the night.

After a moment the lattice swung back and the dark silhouette of what he felt sure was a woman's head appeared. Softly he called up to her in Urdu, 'I would have speech with the Begum Gunavati.'

She did not reply and the head disappeared. With his pulses racing, he waited. He had decided against disguising himself in one of the native robes left in the big farm-​house, as its whiteness would have made him much more conspicuous when approaching the city, so the starlight might be sufficient for the woman to have seen that he was wearing European clothes. In any case, his accent must have told her that he was a foreigner and he thought it certain that she would have guessed him to be an Englishman from Gunston's force. If, after the Wazier's fall, his house had been taken over by the Rajah's people, within a few minutes men might be poking long-​barrelled guns out of the window.

Roger, standing there with his pale face upturned, knew that he would then provide a perfect sitting target. He could only hope that, if his fears were realised, the first shots would miss him. By dropping at once he meant to sham death, then, even if he were wounded, the men would after an interval leave the window, and McCloud have a fair chance of getting him away before the guard on the gate came out to collect his body.

The minutes seemed endless, but at length another head appeared at the window. No long muzzle was thrust out so he called up again. For a second time there was no reply and the head was withdrawn. Another wait ensued, but he was more hopeful now, which made it a shade less agonising. Five more minutes passed, then the same head reappeared and another wearing a turban. A voice came to him from above and with immense relief he recognised it as that of Mahmud Ali Kajar.

A quick stumbling exchange in Persian followed. Mahmud Ali left the window and reappeared at another farther along the row. Down came the rope and Roger hauled himself up it. On clambering into the room, he found that Mahmud Ali's companion was the mute in the red jacket who had rescued him from the dungeon. The latter grinned at him and, leaving the Afghan to haul up the rope, led him downstairs to the room in which he had talked with Rai-​ul-​daula. The Begum was there and rose to receive him.

Having made her a deep bow, he asked with breathless anxiety, 'My wife, your Highness? Is she safe! Is she well?'

The Begum nodded. 'Yes, she is safe.' Then, after a second's hesitation, she added, 'She is still in the harem, and being well cared for.'

'God be thanked!' he exclaimed. 'And your Highness's son, the Wazier? I heard that yesterday he had been deprived of his office. A letter was sent to him which may have caused the trouble, but that was no fault of mine. I hope… I trust… I should be terribly distressed if anything serious…'

She shook her head. 'No; my son has many powerful friends. If Jawahir-​ul-​daula decreed his death without sufficient cause from fear for their own lives they would band together and revolt. The young Prince knows that would be the end of himself. He had dared do no more than confine my son to his own house and put guards upon it.'

'He is here, then?'

'No; this is my house. His palace is two streets away. For the present he is safe there among his own people. But for how long, who can say? It is certain that the Venetian will devise some plot to make a pretext for his execution.'

'Your Highness, I am here tonight in an attempt to rescue my wife,' Roger said quickly. 'I have brave men outside who can be brought in to aid me. I owe my life to your son. If it be possible, we will rescue him too.'

'You are a young man of generous heart; also of great courage,' the old lady murmured. 'To penetrate the city is to ask for an evil death. Your wife is at least fortunate to be the object of such love. Tell me. now, how you hope to recover her?'

Roger gave a brief outline of what he proposed to do. Having heard him out she heaved a sigh. 'You may succeed in reaching her, but you will never get her away. Your men may hold the gate for a while; but you will be overwhelmed by numbers before you can get back with her to it.'

T can only pray that your Highness will prove wrong in that,' he replied gravely. 'Nothing will deter me from making the attempt. But perhaps you can suggest a better way for me to set about it?'

Her still fine eyes searched his face for a moment, striving to assess what other qualities he possessed besides courage, Then she said, 'Show me the palms of your hands.'

Obediently, he held them out to her. For a good two minutes she studied them carefully. When she looked up it was with a faint smile. I do not see death in them, yet; and you have audacity without rashness. If left to his own devices my son may overcome his enemies; but at any time he might be murdered. What neither of you could do alone, the two of you may do together. Putting my trust in your stars, I will gamble with his life tonight. By morning he, you, your wife, myself, all of us, will be either dead or safe.'

She paused for a moment, pulled at the dark hair on her upper lip, and went on, 'I have ways of sending messages to him in secret, and he to others. But that will take time.'

'You have ample,' Roger reassured her. 'My troops are not to attack until half-​an-​hour before dawn. I did not dare to risk an earlier hour from fear we would lose our way through the streets owing to darkness.'

'That was sensible. Even so, there will be great confusion. To distinguish friend from foe, there must be a password a battle cry that my son's men will shout so that your soldiers do not attack them. What shall it be?'

'Clarissa,' replied Roger, without a second's hesitation.

'Cla- rissa; Cla-​rissa,' the old lady repeated. 'That is the name of the wife of your great love. Yes, it is suitable. I will write now a letter for my son, and my clever Damaji, who brought you here from prison, will get it in to him. Mahmud Ali Kajar shall go up with you now to get your men in before the moon rises.'

For this there was now no time to lose; so, as soon as the Afghan had been summoned, Roger hurried upstairs with him. Leaning from the window, he called softly down to McCloud, 'All's well.' The Cornet called back an acknowledgement and went forward at a crouching run, a vague figure seen only for a moment in the starlight.

Ten minutes later he was back with his men spaced out at intervals behind him. Mahmud Ali had already lowered the rope. A hefty Corporal swarmed up it. After him came the eleven troopers, and finally young McCloud. The second stage of the venture had been accomplished without the alarm Roger so dreaded having sounded.

Roger told the Afghan that, as there were still five hours to go before the attack, he would like his men to be given a chance to doss down during the time of waiting. Mahmud Ali took them through the back quarters of the house, stopping at a larder, from which he handed out the best part of a cold goose, a big bowl of rice mixed with onions and sweet peppers, and a large flat dough-​cake; then he led them across a courtyard to a stable in the stalls of which several horses were dozing. Pointing to some bales of clean straw, he indicated that they should make themselves comfortable.

Having seen their men cheerfully settled at their midnight meal, Roger and McCloud accompanied Mahmud Ali back to the Begum's sanctum. After presenting McCloud to her, Roger said that they, too, would like to rest, if it was agreeable to her, until the fateful hour arrived. She agreed that his wish was a wise one, but insisted that they must first eat, and sent the Afghan back to the kitchen quarters. He returned with a dish of quails, a ragout of rice and antelope, and a copper platter on which were piled a variety of sweet cakes.

Young McCloud tucked in as eagerly as at a dormitory feast, but Roger was so keyed up that he could eat hardly anything. When they had done, the Begum told them to make themselves comfortable on the big divan, put out all the lamps but one and, carrying that away, left them.

Soon after four o'clock she returned to rouse them. McCloud was snoring, but Roger had hardly closed an eye. He sat up, instantly alert, to hear the results of her clandestine correspondence with the ex-​Wazier. As he listened he became more tense than ever with excitement. His original plan had been limited to a daring raid to seize and carry off Clarissa; later he had offered to include in the enterprise an attempt to rescue Rai-​ul-​daula. Now the plan had been amplified to nothing less than the capture of the city.

With intense concentration he strove to take in the exact meaning of the sentences spoken by the Begum in Persian. Some he asked her to repeat, until he felt confident that he had a complete grasp of the whole scheme. First, as planned by himself, he must capture the gate and let in the waiting squadron of cavalry. Next, some of them must go guided by Mahmud Ali, to Rai-​ul-​daula's palace, slaughter the guards set about it, and restore him to freedom. Roger, meanwhile, guided by Damaji, could go as he had intended to the garden door by which a eunuch had let them out of the palace. But, simultaneously, the great main gate of the palace should also be attacked to draw off the palace guard. Rai-​ul-​daula's friends commanded the greater part of the Bahna army, and would keep it from intervening; but, in the palace, the Rajah's men were expected to prove loyal to him. There were several hundred of them; unless they could be overcome swiftly, other bodies of troops might decide to disobey their officers, join them, and assist in driving the British out of the city. If, owing to some delay, that were allowed to happen, disaster would overwhelm them all.

Roger and his men were ail provided with white native garments and turbans. At a quarter to five, led by Mahmud Ali and Damaji, they filed out of the house into the street. Three minutes' walk brought them to within a few yards of the gate. The majority of the party crouched back in the pitch blackness of an angle made by the walls of the nearest tower, while the two natives went forward. Mahmud Ali spoke to a sentry who was leaning against the door of the gatehouse. After showing some reluctance, the man went inside and returned with his officer. Mahmud Ali whipped a knife from under his robe. In one stroke he severed the officer's throat. At the same moment, Damaji fell upon the sentry. With the side of his palm he struck him sharply under the chin and, as his head went back, plunged a knife in his stomach.

The group waiting in the shadows ran forward. McCloud joined Mahmud Ali at the gate and helped him draw back the immense strong teak beam that, like a huge bolt, held the two halves of the gate shut. The others followed Damaji through a door in the base of the tower into the guard-​room. By the light of a single oil lamp a brief grim tussle ensued. Within three minutes the remainder of the guard were senseless or gasping out their lives. Roger felt it to be a horrible business, but knew that it was necessary. No other course could have prevented a premature alarm ruining his plans; so it was either no quarter for the guard or death for himself and all who were with him.

Needing no bidding, the troopers now flung themselves on the great wooden winch, heaving it round so that the thick hempen hawser coiled about the drum slowly drew the nearest half of the great gate back. As soon as there was an opening wide enough, McCloud slipped through and, as fast as his legs would carry him, raced down the road.

As he did so, a voice called down from the top of the tower above the guard-​room. It could not have been McCloud's running off outside that had attracted the attention of the sentry up there, as he was leaning over the inside parapet and his head and shoulders could be seen against the paling sky. He must have heard the creaking of the great winch; but it was still almost pitch dark down in the well between the two towers, so he could not have seen that half the gate was actually open.

At the sound of his voice, Roger's party stopped dead in their tracks; then Mahmud Ali called up something that seemed to reassure the sentry. He drew back from the parapet and half-​a-​dozen of the troopers filed quickly into the other gatehouse. Grabbing the spokes of the winch there, they began to drag the other half of the gate open.

For a few minutes Roger waited in breathless suspense, staring out through the open gate along the still dark road. Suddenly he caught the sound of a muted drumming. It was the squadron, with the hoofs of their horses muffled in old rags, coming up at a canter.

The sentry had caught it too. Next moment a shot rang out. Then another and another, from other sentries posted farther off along the wall. Roger could see the squadron now as a black compact mass swiftly approaching.

'Laker!' he shouted. 'Laker! Here I am!'

In a swirl of dust, the Captain pulled up beside him, while the squadron streamed past them under the tall arch. A dozen men of the garrison were shooting now, but the attackers got by almost unharmed. In the last troop, one man was hit in the arm, another had an ear chipped and, with a screaming neigh, a wounded horse pitched its rider. The rest rode on, pulling up in the adjacent streets, the houses in which gave them temporary cover from the sentries on the walls.

To make himself heard above the din of cries, shots and curses, Roger had to shout at Laker but, by an exchange of a dozen quick sentences, they modified the plan they had agreed on; for now, with the help Rai-​ul-​daula would give them, they could hope to capture the city. It was agreed that No. 1 troop should go with Roger to secure Clarissa; Nos. 2 and 3, under Laker with Mahmud Ali as guide, were first to free the ex-​Wazier, then attack the main gate of the palace; while No. 4 troop should remain there to hold the gate in case they were forced to retreat through it.

While Laker shouted his orders, and passed the recognition battle-​cry 'Clarissa' to his officers, Damaji, Roger, McCloud and their squad of twelve picked men each took a grip on the stirrup leather of one of the No. 1 troop. Led by the red-​jacketed mute they set off up the street, running beside the mounted troopers. Within five minutes they entered the narrow lane, one side of which was formed by the wall of the palace garden. Those running let go their hold and swiftly formed a group outside the door which had been opened by the eunuch on the night of Roger's escape. Meanwhile, the mounted men divided into two sections, each trotting to one end of the street and halting there ready to resist any attempt to interfere with Roger and his party.

Two of the special squad produced canisters of gunpowder that Roger had had them bring in with them, and a third a length of fuse. McCloud placed the canisters against the gate and fixed the fuse. The corporal lit it with his tinder-​box, and they all ran back. The fuse spluttered and a small blue flame ran along it; there came a bright flash and a shattering explosion. Without waiting for the smoke to clear, Roger rushed at the door and, followed by his men, flung himself against it. The explosion had shattered the lower part and sprung its hinges. Two minutes' ramming by muscular shoulders and they had forced the wrecked door far enough back to get through.

McCloud blew his whistle to call up the mounted men while Roger, half blinded by smoke, staggered into the garden. Dawn was not far off and there was now sufficient light for him to get his bearings. When crossing the garden before, he had heard a woman's laughter coming from a long low building that lay to his right. Damaji had come up with him and pointed at it, confirming his belief that it was a part of the harem. Followed by the troopers, now wielding their drawn sabres, they pelted across the garden towards it.

The firing down by the city gate had increased, and lights coming on in the building showed that the sound must have aroused some of its inmates. As Roger raced towards it a door at the top of a shallow flight of steps swung open and the portly form of a eunuch showed framed in it against the light. At the sight of the dark figures running towards him, he gave a shrill cry of fright and quickly shut the door again. But before he could bolt it, Roger was up the steps. With one violent kick he forced it back a foot, then jabbed with his sword through the opening. The point of the blade caught the eunuch in the arm. He gave a screech of pain and, clasping at his wound, staggered aside. A moment later the whole squad was tumbling inside.

They had entered a bare tiled hallway with graceful arches in its walls. Another eunuch was standing in one of them. His eyes wide in their puffy sockets, he turned and fled. Instinctively Roger dashed after him. A dozen strides carried him down a short passage and into a long silk-​curtained room. In it there were a score of divans and as many scantily clad houris, just aroused from sleep. They began to scream. Those who were nearest cowered back against the walls; others, at the far end of the apartment, fled like a herd of terrified gazelles, bunching together as they stampeded through a further archway.

At a glance, Roger had seen that Clarissa was not among them. With flying feet, he pursued the huddle of dark heads, streaming veils, and shapely brown limbs through the archway into another chamber. It was very similar to the first, but occupied by a number of older women, evidently the concubines of the young Rajah's father. Most of them, too, were now screaming, but some showed a bolder face, and one flung a dagger at Roger. It missed him, but struck one of the troopers behind him, gashing his cheek. With a thrust of his left hand, Roger pushed the woman over, and sped on after the younger ones through yet another archway.

It opened onto a passage at one side of which there were a number of curtained doorways. Ripping aside the first curtain he came to he saw beyond it a comfortably furnished room with a tumbled divan from which its occupant had already fled. The next was similarly furnished and also empty. These, evidently, were the apartments of the favourites. One after the other he snatched at the silk curtains, peered for an instant into the abandoned rooms, and hurried on. In the sixth room, lying on its divan, he found Clarissa.

For a moment he thought she was asleep; then he realised that she could not possibly have slept through the piercing screams and clamour made by the other women during the past few minutes. Yet if she was not asleep-​an ice-​cold hand gripped his heart she must be dead.