"Boy!" she called calmly, though the room swam round her and a deadly
faintness began to paralyse her limbs and loosen her hold upon the
shelf--"Boy! Come here."

Antonio Ferdinand Xavier D'Souza, Goanese butler, heard and came.

"Mem-Sahib?" quoth he, at the door of the go-down.

"Bring a lamp quickly," said Lenore de Warrenne in a level voice.

The worthy Antonio, fat, spectacled, bald and wheezy, hurried away and
peremptorily bade the _hamal_[2], son of a jungle-pig, to light and
bring a lamp quickly.

The _hamal_, respectfully pointing out to the Bootlair Sahib that the
daylight was yet strong and lusty enough to shame and smother any
lamp, complied with deliberation and care, polishing the chimney,
trimming the wick, pouring in oil and generally making a satisfactory
and commendable job of it.

Lenore de Warrenne, sick, faint, sinking, waited ... waited ... waited
... gripping the shelf and fighting against her over-mastering
weakness for the life of the unborn child that, even in that awful
moment, she prayed might be a daughter.

After many cruelly long centuries, and as she swayed to fall, the good
Antonio entered with the lamp. Her will triumphed over her falling
body.