gram, besides, so that by the time Ethne had unfolded
it and saw the words, she was alone upon the terrace. She remembered
what Durrance had said to her about the prison, and her imagination
enlarged upon his words. The quiet of a September evening was upon the
fields, a light mist rose from the creek and crept over the garden bank
across the lawn. Already the prison doors were shut in that hot country
at the junction of the Niles. "He is to pay for his fault ten times
over, then," she cried, in revolt against the disproportion. "And the
fault was his father's and mine too more than his own. For neither of us
understood."

She blamed herself for the gift of that fourth feather. She leaned upon
the stone balustrade with her eyes shut, wondering whether Harry would
outlive this night, whether he was still alive to outlive it. The very
coolness of the stones on which her hands pressed became the bitterest
of reproaches.

"Something can now be done."

Durrance was coming from the window of the drawing-room, and spoke as he
came, to warn her of his approach. "He was and is my friend; I cannot
leave him there. I shall write to-night to Calder. Money will not be
spared. He is my friend, Ethne. You will see. From Suakin or from
Assouan something will be done."

He put all the help to be offered to the credit of his own friendship.
Ethne was not to believe that he imagined she had any further interest
in Harry Feversham.

She turned to him suddenly, almost interrupting him.

"Major Castleton is dead?" she said.

"Castleton?" he exclaimed. "There was a Castleton in Feversham's
regiment. Is that the man?"

"Yes. He is dead?"

"He was killed at Tamai."

"You are sure--quite sure?"

"He was within the square of the Second Brigade on the edge of the great
gulley when Osman Digna's men sprang out of the earth and broke through.
I was in that square, too. I saw Castleton killed."

"I am glad," said Ethne.

She spoke quite simply and distinctly. The first feather had been
brought back by Captain Willoughby. It was just possible that Colonel
Trench might bring back the second. Harry Feversham had succeeded once
under great difficulties, in the face of great peril. The peril was
greater now, the difficulties more arduous to overcome; that she clearly
understood. But she took the one success as an augury that another
might follow it. Feversham would have laid his plans with care; he had
money wherewith to carry them out;