His face was livid, and yet the sweat stood upon his forehead.

Stella Ballantyne drew back, but Ballantyne saw her as she moved and drove her to her own quarters.
"I have a private message for Mr.Thresk's ears," he said, and when she had gone he took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead.
"Now you must help me," he said in a low voice.

But his voice shook and his eyes strayed again to the ground by the wall of the tent.
"It was just there the arm came through," he said.

"Yes, just there," and he pointed a trembling finger.
"Arm ?" cried Thresk.

"What are you talking about ?" Ballantyne looked away from the wall to Thresk, his eyes incredulous.
"But you saw!" he insisted, leaning forward over the table.
"What ?" "An arm, a hand thrust in under the tent there, along the ground reaching out for my box." "No.