There they carried him into a dark room where they left
him, turning the key in the lock as they went away.
CHAPTER XXIX. DOT AND DASH
For a long time after the retreating footsteps of Strangwise and
Bellward had died away, Desmond sat listless, preoccupied with
his thoughts. They were somber enough. The sinister atmosphere of
the house, weighing upon him, seemed to deepen his depression.
About his own position he was not concerned at all. This is not
an example of unselfishness it is simply an instance of the force
of discipline which trains a man to reckon the cause as
everything and himself as naught. And Desmond was haunted by the
awful conviction that he had at length reached the end of his
tether and that nothing could now redeem the ignominious failure
he had made of his mission.
He had sacrificed Barbara Mackwayte; he had sacrificed
Nur-el-Din; he had not even been clever enough to save his own
skin. And Strangwise, spy and murderer, had escaped and was now
free to reorganize his band after he had put Barbara and Desmond
out of the way.
The thought was so unbearable that it stung Desmond into action.
Strangwise should not get the better of him, he resolved, and he
had yet this brief interval of being alone in which he might
devise some scheme to rescue Barbara and secure the arrest of
Strangwise and his accomplices.
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