Panting with rage, he sought with his left
hand to draw his pistol; but Desmond was beforehand with him. He caught
his arm, wrenched the pistol from him, and, breathless with his
exertions, said:
"You are my prisoner."
"'Tis fate, my young friend," said Diggle, with all his old blandness;
Desmond never ceased to be amazed at the self command of this
extraordinary man. "I have let some blood, I perceive; my sword arm is
for the time disabled; but my great regret at this moment--you will
understand the feeling--is that this gallant friend of yours lies low
with the wound intended for another. So Antores received in his flank the
lance hurled at Lausus: infelix alieno volnere."
"I dare say, Mr. Diggle," interrupted Desmond, "but I have no time to
construe Latin."
Covering Diggle with his pistol, Desmond stooped over Fuzl Khan's
prostrate body and discovered in a moment that the poor fellow's heart
had ceased to beat. He rose, and added: "I must trouble you to come with
me; and quickly, for you perceive you are at my mercy."
"Where do you propose to take me, my friend?"
"We will go this way, and please step out."
Diggle scowled, and stood as though meditating resistance.
"Come, come, Mr. Diggle, you have no choice. I do not wish to have to
drag you; it might cause you pain."
"Surely you will spare a moment to an old friend! I fear you are entirely
mistaken. 'Tis pity that with the natural ebullition of your youthful
spirit you should have set upon a man whom--"
"You can talk as we go, Mr.
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