Summary

James Grant Colville of the Guards, Volume 3…

But amid that dense mob below—a literal sea of upturned and dark, revengeful faces, with glistening teeth and flashing eyes—no bullet could miss a mark; while all around were heard the crash of falling bricks, beams, and plaster, the yells of the Afghans, the shrieks of their women, and the roar of the fast gathering flames.
'Mark that fellow!' cried several officers, indicating a leader in a green loonghee, who seemed to have a charmed life—Mahmoud Shah, in fact.
'I should like to pick that devil off,' said Robert Wodrow, dropping a cartridge into the breechblock of his carbine.
Source: Gutenberg

James Grant Colville of the Guards, Volume 3…

Who can say or fathom the cruel duplicity of the Oriental mind and nature?
And, with these painful surmises and doubts in his mind, Colville heard the roar of the conflict in and around the doomed Residency dying away in the distance as the gates of the fort by the Cabul river were closed behind him.
As he entered, he looked back to the fatal Bala Hissar. The smoke of the conflict, mingled with that of the conflagration, was eddying about its picturesque towers and embattled masses on the mountain slope, all bathed in ruddy splendour by the setting sun. What was being enacted there now?
Source: Gutenberg

James Grant Colville of the Guards, Volume 3…

Dolly Dewsnap, becoming interested.
'Rather,' said Sleath, with an ugly wink. 'Are you not glad to see me so unexpectedly, Ellinor?'
'Glad!' said she, shudderingly.
Her old repugnance was now increased tenfold, and mingled with genuine terror. A man with such a bearing and with such an expression as she read in the cold blue eyes of Sleath, would, she knew, have no mercy, so she turned to Dewsnap; but there was little to encourage her in his leery and blasé, though rather rubicund, visage.
Source: Gutenberg

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