"He will come, _effendi_; but he will only speak of himself. He will not
answer questions."
"Enough! Fetch him!" Herne ordered. "And you remain and interpret!"
But when Hassan was gone, his weakness returned upon him, and the
bitterness of defeat made itself felt. Was this the end of his long
struggle, to be overwhelmed at last by the odds he had so bravely dared?
It was almost unthinkable. He could not reconcile himself to it. And yet
at the heart of him lurked the conviction that failure was to be his
portion. He had attempted the impossible. He had offered himself in
vain; and any further sacrifice could only end in the same way. If Bobby
Duncannon were indeed dead, his task was done; but he had felt so
assured that he still lived that he could not bring himself to expel the
belief. It was the lack of knowledge that he could not endure, the
thought of returning to the woman he loved empty-handed, of seeing once
more the soul-hunger in her eyes, and being unable to satisfy it.
No, he could not face it. He would have to go back, even though it meant
to his destruction, unless this Mad Prophet could furnish him with proof
incontestable of young Duncannon's death.
Pages:
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397