Granberry has
gone to learn the tale of the other candlestick. These men, Ronador,
we must see again before we sail. In the meantime, there is Poynter's
physician."
"Very well," said Ronador, goaded to a sudden consent by a fevered wave
of nausea and shaking, "let us go to him."
So came Prince Ronador and the Baron to the island lodge of Mic-co.
Though Ronador in the first disorder of rebellious mind and body, had
fancied himself sicker than he really was, he was suffering more now
than even Tregar guessed. The last stage of the journey to a man of
less indomitable grit and courage would have been impossible. It was
no sickness of the mind alone. His body was wildly ravaged by a fever.
Through a dizzy blur which distorted every object and which frowningly
he sought to drive away with clenched hands, he stared at the lodge,
stared at Keela, stared at the grave and quiet face of Mic-co. He was
still staring vaguely about him when night curtained the lilied pool
and the stars flashed brightly overhead.
"I am not ill, Tregar!" he insisted curtly. "Let me rest by the pool.
There is peace here and I am tired. We traveled rapidly--"
Nevertheless, for all his feverish denial, his desperate attempts to
keep to the thread of desultory talk were pitiful.
Pages:
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379