After a few seconds he turned back to her, and bending kissed her
piteous face. She clung closely to him with an agonised longing to
keep him with her; but he put her gently from him at last.

"Lie down again, dear," he said, "and get what rest you can. Try not
to be frightened at the noise. There is sure to be an assault, but the
fort will hold to-night."

He stood a moment, looking down at her. Then again he stooped and
kissed her. "Good-bye, my darling," he said huskily, "till we meet
again!"

And so hurriedly, as if not trusting himself to remain longer, he left
her.




CHAPTER III

THE VICTIM OF TREACHERY


There came again the running rattle of rifle-firing from the valley
below the fort, and Muriel Roscoe, lying on her couch, pressed both
hands to her eyes and shivered. It seemed impossible that the end
could be so near. She felt as if she had existed for years in this
living nightmare of many horrors, had lain down and had slept with
that dreadful sound in her ears from the very beginning of things. The
life she had led before these ghastly happenings had become so vague a