there.

Something shuffled on the stone veranda, another sound, and sound was of
value to Craven Joicey, since it made a vital note in the circling
numbness around him. He could hear whispering voices, and the thump of
the _Durwan's_ stick, as that musically-minded man walked round to the
back of the house, where his lighted window showed that Craven Joicey
did not sleep. Again a voice whispered, and a low sound of discreet
knocking followed.

Joicey sprang up and called out hoarsely:

"Who is it?"

"Sahib, Sahib"--the _Durwan's_ whine was apologetic. "Is the Sahib
awake?"

"Who wants me?"

"Leh Shin, the Chinaman."

Joicey wiped his face with his handkerchief and pulled open the door
with a violent movement.

"Come in," he said, trying to speak naturally. "What is it, Leh Shin?"

The Chinaman held a tweed hat in his hand and stole into the room like a
shadow.

"What now, Leh Shin?"