his
good news instead of shooting ibex on Jebel Araft, it would have made
all the difference in her life, and the cry was loud at her heart, "Why
didn't you come?" But outwardly she gave no sign of the irreparable harm
which Willoughby's delay had brought about. She had the self-command of
a woman who has been sorely tried, and she spoke so unconcernedly that
Willoughby believed her questions prompted by the merest curiosity.

"You might have written," she suggested.

"Feversham did not suggest that there was any hurry. It would have been
a long and difficult matter to explain in a letter. He asked me to go to
you when I had an opportunity, and I had no opportunity before. To tell
the truth, I thought it very likely that I might find Feversham had come
back before me."

"Oh, no," returned Ethne, "there could be no possibility of that. The
other two feathers still remain to be redeemed before he will ask me to
take back mine."

Willoughby shook his head. "Feversham can never persuade Castleton and
Trench to cancel their accusations as he persuaded me."

"Why not?"

"Major Castleton was killed when the square was broken at Tamai."

"Killed?" cried Ethne, and she laughed in a short and satisfied way.
Willoughby turned and stared at her, disbelieving the evidence of his
ears. But her face showed him quite clearly that she was thoroughly
pleased. Ethne was a Celt, and she had the Celtic feeling that death was
not a very important matter. She could hate, too, and she could be hard
as iron to the men she hated. And these three men she hated exceedingly.
It was true that she had agreed with them, that she had given a feather,
the fourth feather, to Harry Feversham just to show that she agreed, but
she did not trouble her head about that. She was very glad to hear that
Major Castleton was out of the world and done with.

"And Colonel Trench too?" she said.

"No," Willoughby answered. "You are disappointed? But he is even worse
off than that. He was captured when engaged on a reconnaissance. He is
now a prisoner in Omdurman."

"Ah!" said Ethne.

"I don't think you can have any idea," said Willoughby, severely, "of
what captivity in Omdurman implies. If you had, however much you
disliked the captive, you would feel some pity."

"Not I," said Ethne, stubbornly.

"I will tell you something of what it does imply."

"No. I don't wish to hear of Colonel Trench. Besides, you must go. I
want you to tell me one thing fir