plug, and fixing his mouth about the aperture drew three long, deep inhalations, after which he calmly restored the plug and stood aside.
“It is your turn now,” he said. “Have courage! Remember, there is a good God above us all!”
Helpless! Oh pitying Father! Why was I so helpless? How gladly would I have risked my life to rush forward and drag Maurice from the fatal spot!
Nor was I alone in my desire. Unknown to me there was present in that room another whose feelings were as intense as my own.
She came with a rush. She dashed between the lamas, sending Padma reeling back against the altar. With her long, black hair streaming behind her, she prostrated herself at Maurice’s feet.
“Ye gods!” I thought; “it is Walla!” For I now saw that what I had taken for the pile of sheepskins in the corner was none other than the girl whose life we had twice preserved.
“No! No! No! ” she cried, in tones so vehement that in spite of the spell which bound me I trembled. “No! you shall not! You must not! I love you! Oh, God, how I love you! Save him! Save him! Let it be me instead!”
Jealousy—mad jealousy seized me. I thought less of Maurice than of Walla Benjow, then! She go! Never! I struggled with my helplessness, struggled fearfully, and I think I had almost won the victory when I saw that it was too late.
Padma seized her. A few quick passes over that shapely head and the girl had ceased to rave.
Meanwhile Maurice never said anything. I saw and understood the look of amazement which came over his face—he had not even dreamed of such a possibility as this.
“Be good to her, George!” he called. “Good bye again old fellow! Good bye!”
It was done!
Unhesitatingly he removed the plug and inhaled the fatal gas!
Loud twanged the strings, and the voices of the lamas burst forth into a wild chant.
Vanished now was the power I had almost gained. Sight and hearing alone stood by me—I listened and looked—I saw Mr. Mirrikh sinking slowly to the stone floor.
