Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. “H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. ‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck. It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her. “I’ve been looking out for you,” he said. The chair was torture. The benches running round the room, though fastened to the walls by iron clamps, had been forcibly wrenched off; while the table, which was similarly secured to the boards, was upset, and its contents—bottles, jugs, glasses, and bowls were broken and scattered about in all directions. “I’d never have a day of peace again, John.
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