"I think you ought to come as quickly as you can." He gave her his hand to help her into the boat.
The passage was short and the river almost stagnant; they stood in a bunch at the bow, while a woman with a child tied on her hip with one oar impelled the sampan across.
"He was taken ill this afternoon, the afternoon of yesterday that is," said Waddington.
"Why wasn't I sent for at once?"
Although there was no reason for it they spoke in whispers.
In the darkness Kitty could only feel how intense was her companion's anxiety.
"Colonel Y #252; wanted to, but he wouldn't let him.
Colonel Y #252; has been with him all the time."
"He ought to have sent for me all the same.
It's heartless."
"Your husband knew that you had never seen any one with cholera.
It's a terrible and revolting sight.
He didn't want you to see it."
"After all he is my husband," she said in a choking voice.
Waddington made no reply. "Why am I allowed to come now?"
Waddington put his hand on her arm.
"My dear, you must be very brave.
You must be prepared for the worst."
She gave a wail of anguish and turned away a little, for she saw that the three Chinese soldiers were looking at her.
She had a sudden strange glimpse of the whites of their eyes.
"Is he dying?"
"I only know the message Colonel Y #252; gave to this officer who came and fetched me.
As far as I can judge collapse has set in."
"Is there no hope at all?"
"I'm dreadfully sorry, I'm afraid that if we don't get there quickly we shan't find him alive."
She shuddered.
The tears began to stream down her cheeks.
"You see, he's been overworking, he has no powers of resistance."
She withdrew from the pressure of his arm with a gesture of irritation.
It exasperated her that he should talk in that low, anguished voice.
They reached the side and two men, Chinese coolies, standing on the bank helped her to step on shore.
The chairs were waiting.
As she got into hers Waddington said to her:
"Try and keep a tight hold on your nerves.
You'll want all your self-control."
"Tell the bearers to make haste."
"They have orders to go as fast as they can."
The officer, already in his chair, passed by and as he passed called out to Kitty's bearers.
They raised the chair smartly, arranged the poles on their shoulders, and at a swift pace set off. Waddington followed close behind.
They took the hill at a run, a man with a lantern going before each chair, and at the water-gate the gate-keeper was standing with a torch.
The officer shouted to him as they approached and he flung open one side of the gate to let them through. He uttered some sort of interjection as they passed and the bearers called back.
In the dead of the night those guttural* sounds in a strange language were mysterious and alarming.
They slithered up the wet and slippery cobbles of the alley and one of the officer's bearers stumbled.
Kitty heard the officer's voice raised in anger, the shrill retort of the bearer, and then the chair in front hurried on again.
The streets were narrow and tortuous.
Here in the city was deep night.
It was a city of the dead.
They hastened along a narrow lane, turned a corner, and then at a run took a flight of steps; the bearers were beginning to blow hard; they walked with long, rapid strides, in silence; one took out a ragged handkerchief and as he walked wiped from his forehead the sweat that ran down into his eyes; they wound this way and that so that it might have been a maze through which they sped; in the shadow of the shuttered shops sometimes a form seemed to be lying, but you did not know whether it was a man who slept to awake at dawn or a man who slept to awake never; the narrow streets were ghostly in their silent emptiness and when on a sudden a dog barked loudly it sent a shock of terror through Kitty's tortured nerves.
She did not know where they went.
The way seemed endless.