THE LAMP IN THE DESERT

by

ETHEL M. DELL

Author of _The Way of an Eagle_, _The Knave of Diamonds_, _The Rocks of Valpré_, _The Swindler, and Other Stories_, _The Keeper of the Door_, _The Bars of Iron_, _The HundredthChance_, _The Safety Curtain, and Other Stories_, _Greatheart_

1919

[Illustration: "He knelt beside her, his arms comfortingly around her. "]

Drawn by D. C. Hutchinson

I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO

MY DEARLY-LOVED

ELIZABETH

AND TO THE MEMORY OF HER GREAT GOODNESS

WHEN SHE WALKED IN THE

DESERT WITH ME

_"He led them all the night through with a light of fire. "_

PSALM lxxviii, 14. 

 Lamps that gleam in the city, Lamps that flare on the wall, Lamps that shine on the ways of men, Kindled by men are all. 

 But the desert of burnt-out ashes, Which only the lost have trod, Dark and barren and flowerless, Is lit by the Hand of God. 

 To lighten the outer darkness, To hasten the halting feet, He lifts a lamp in the desert Like the lamps of men in the street. 

 Only the wanderers know it, The lost with those who mourn, That lamp in the desert darkness, And the joy that comes in the dawn. 

 That the lost may come into safety, And the mourners may cease to doubt, The Lamp of God will be shining still When the lamps of men go out. 

CHAPTER

PART I

 I. --BEGGAR'S CHOICE II. --THE PRISONER AT THE BAR III. --THE TRIUMPH IV. --THE BRIDE V. --THE DREAM VI. --THE GARDEN VII. --THE SERPENT IN THE GARDENVIII. --THE FORBIDDEN PARADISE

PART II

 I. --THE MINISTERING ANGEL II. --THE RETURN III. --THE BARREN SOIL IV. --THE SUMMONS V. --THE MORNING VI. --THE NIGHT-WATCH VII. --SERVICE RENDEREDVIII. --THE TRUCE IX. --THE OASIS X. --THE SURRENDER

PART III

 I. --BLUEBEARD'S CHAMBER II. --EVIL TIDINGS III. --THE BEAST OF PREY IV. --THE FLAMING SWORD V. --TESSA VI. --THE ARRIVAL VII. --FALSE PRETENCESVIII. --THE WRATH OF THE GODS

PART IV

 I. --DEVIL'S DICE II. --OUT OF THE DARKNESS III. --BLUEBELL IV. --THE SERPENT IN THE DESERT V. --THE WOMAN'S WAY VI. --THE SURPRISE PARTY VII. --RUSTAM KARINVIII. --PETER IX. --THE CONSUMING FIRE X. --THE DESERT PLACE

PART V

 I. --GREATER THAN DEATH II. --THE LAMP III. --TESSA'S MOTHER IV. --THE BROAD ROAD V. --THE DARK NIGHT VI. --THE FIRST GLIMMER VII. --THE FIRST VICTIMVIII. --THE FIERY VORTEX IX. --THE DESERT OF ASHES X. --THE ANGEL XI. --THE DAWN XII. --THE BLUE JAY

PART I

CHAPTER I

BEGGAR'S CHOICE

A great roar of British voices pierced the jewelled curtain of theIndian night. A toast with musical honours was being drunk in thesweltering dining-room of the officers' mess. The enthusiastic hubbubspread far, for every door and window was flung wide. Though the seasonwas yet in its infancy, the heat was intense. Markestan had thereputation in the Indian Army for being one of the hottest corners inthe Empire in more senses than one, and Kurrumpore, the military centre, had not been chosen for any especial advantages of climate. So fewindeed did it possess in the eyes of Europeans that none ever went theresave those whom an inexorable fate compelled. The rickety, woodenbungalows scattered about the cantonment were temporary lodgings, notabiding-places. The women of the community, like migratory birds, dweltin them for barely four months in the year, flitting with the coming ofthe pitiless heat to Bhulwana, their little paradise in the Hills. Butthat was a twenty-four hours' journey away, and the men had to becontent with an occasional week's leave from the depths of theirinferno, unless, as Tommy Denvers put it, they were lucky enough to gosick, in which case their sojourn in paradise was prolonged, much to thedelight of the angels. 

But on that hot night the annual flitting of the angels had not yet cometo pass, and notwithstanding the heat the last dance of the season wasto take place at the Club House. The occasion was an exceptional one, asthe jovial sounds that issued from the officers' mess-house testified. Round after round of cheers followed the noisy toast, filling the nightwith the merry uproar that echoed far and wide. A confusion of voicessucceeded these; and then by degrees the babel died down, and a singlevoice made itself heard. It spoke with easy fluency to the evidentappreciation of its listeners, and when it ceased there came anotherhearty cheer. Then with jokes and careless laughter the little companyof British officers began to disperse. They came forth in lounginggroups on to the steps of the mess-house, the foremost of them--TommyDenvers--holding the arm of his captain, who suffered the familiarity ashe suffered most things, with the utmost indifference. None but Tommyever attempted to get on familiar terms with Everard Monck. He wasessentially a man who stood alone. But the slim, fair-haired youngsubaltern worshipped him openly and with reason. For Monck it was who, grimly resolute, had pulled him through the worst illness he had everknown, accomplishing by sheer force of will what Ralston, the doctor, had failed to accomplish by any other means. And in consequence and forall time the youngest subaltern in the mess had become Monck's devotedadherent. 

They stood together for a moment at the top of the steps while Monck, his dark, lean face wholly unresponsive and inscrutable, took out acigar. The night was a wonderland of deep spaces and glittering stars. Somewhere far away a native _tom-tom_ throbbed like the beating of afevered pulse, quickening spasmodically at intervals and then dying awayagain into mere monotony. The air was scentless, still, and heavy. 

"It's going to be deuced warm, " said Tommy. 

"Have a smoke?" said Monck, proffering his case. 

The boy smiled with swift gratification. "Oh, thanks awfully! But it's ashame to hurry over a good cigar, and I promised Stella to go straightback. "

"A promise is a promise, " said Monck. "Have it later!" He added rathercurtly, "I'm going your way myself. "

"Good!" said Tommy heartily. "But aren't you going to show at the ClubHouse? Aren't you going to dance?"

Monck tossed down his lighted match and set his heel on it. "I'm keepingmy dancing for to-morrow, " he said. "The best man always has more thanenough of that. "

Tommy made a gloomy sound that was like a groan and began to descend thesteps by his side. They walked several paces along the dim road insilence; then quite suddenly he burst into impulsive speech. 

"I'll tell you what it is, Monck!"

"I shouldn't, " said Monck. 

Tommy checked abruptly, looking at him oddly, uncertainly. "How do youknow what I was going to say?" he demanded. 

"I don't, " said Monck. 

"I believe you do, " said Tommy, unconvinced. 

Monck blew forth a cloud of smoke and laughed in his brief, rathergrudging way. "You're getting quite clever for a child of your age, " heobserved. "But don't overdo it, my son! Don't get precocious!"

Tommy's hand grasped his arm confidentially. "Monck, if I don't speakout to someone, I shall bust! Surely you don't mind my speaking out toyou!"

"Not if there's anything to be gained by it, " said Monck. 

He ignored the friendly, persuasive hand on his arm, but yet in somefashion Tommy knew that it was not unwelcome. He kept it there as hemade reply. 

"There isn't. Only, you know, old chap, it does a fellow good tounburden himself. And I'm bothered to death about this business. "

"A bit late in the day, isn't it?" suggested Monck. 

"Oh yes, I know; too late to do anything. But, " Tommy spoke with force, "the nearer it gets, the worse I feel. I'm downright sick about it, andthat's the truth. How would you feel, I wonder, if you knew your one andonly sister was going to marry a rotter? Would you be satisfied to letthings drift?"

Monck was silent for a space. They walked on over the dusty road withthe free swing of the conquering race. One or two 'rickshaws met them asthey went, and a woman's voice called a greeting; but though they bothresponded, it scarcely served as a diversion. The silence between themremained. 

Monck spoke at last, briefly, with grim restraint. "That's rather asweeping assertion of yours. I shouldn't repeat it if I were you. "

"It's true all the same, " maintained Tommy. "You know it's true. "

"I know nothing, " said Monck. "I've nothing whatever against Dacre. "

"You've nothing in favour of him anyway, " growled Tommy. 

"Nothing particular; but I presume your sister has. " There was just ahint of irony in the quiet rejoinder. 

Tommy winced. "Stella! Great Scott, no! She doesn't care the toss of ahalfpenny for him. I know that now. She only accepted him because shefound herself in such a beastly anomalous position, with all thespiteful cats of the regiment arrayed against her, treating her like apariah. "

"Did she tell you so?" There was no irony in Monck's tone this time. Itfell short and stern. 

Again Tommy glanced at him as one uncertain. "Not likely, " he said. 

"Then why do you make the assertion? What grounds have you for makingthe assertion?" Monck spoke with insistence as one who meant to have ananswer. 

And the boy answered him, albeit shamefacedly. "I really can't say, Monck. I'm the sort of fool that sees things without being able toexplain how. But that Stella has the faintest spark of real love forthat fellow Dacre, --well, I'd take my dying oath that she hasn't. "

"Some women don't go in for that sort of thing, " commented Monck dryly. 

"Stella isn't that sort of woman. " Hotly came Tommy's defence. "Youdon't know her. She's a lot deeper than I am. "

Monck laughed a little. "Oh, you're deep enough, Tommy. But you'retransparent as well. Now your sister on the other hand is quiteinscrutable. But it is not for us to interfere. She probably knows whatshe is doing--very well indeed. "

"That's just it. Does she know? Isn't she taking a most awful leap inthe dark?" Keen anxiety sounded in Tommy's voice. "It's been suchhorribly quick work, you know. Why, she hasn't been out here six weeks. It's a shame for any girl to marry on such short notice as that. I saidso to her, and she--she laughed and said, 'Oh, that's beggar's choice!Do you think I could enjoy life with your angels in paradise inunmarried bliss? I'd sooner stay down in hell with you. ' And she'd havedone it too, Monck. And it would probably have killed her. That's partlyhow I came to know. "

"Haven't the women been decent to her?" Monck's question fell curtly, asif the subject were one which he was reluctant to discuss. 

Tommy looked at him through the starlight. "You know what they are, " hesaid bluntly. "They'd hunt anybody if once Lady Harriet gave tongue. Shechose to eye Stella askance from the very outset, and of course all therest followed suit. Mrs. Ralston is the only one in the whole crowd whohas ever treated her decently, but of course she's nobody. Everyone sitson her. As if, " he spoke with heat, "Stella weren't as good as the bestof 'em--and better! What right have they to treat her like a socialoutcast just because she came out here to me on her own? It's hateful!It's iniquitous! What else could she have done?"

"It seems reasonable--from a man's point of view, " said Monck. 

"It was reasonable. It was the only thing possible. And just for thatthey chose to turn the cold shoulder on her, --to ostracize herpractically. What had she done to them? What right had they to treat herlike that?" Fierce resentment sounded in Tommy's voice. 

"I'll tell you if you want to know, " said Monck abruptly. "It's the lawof the pack to rend an outsider. And your sister will always bethat--married or otherwise. They may fawn upon her later, Dacre beingone to hold his own with women. But they will always hate her in theirhearts. You see, she is beautiful. "

"Is she?" said Tommy in surprise. "Do you know, I never thought ofthat!"

Monck laughed--a cold, sardonic laugh. "Quite so! You wouldn't! ButDacre has--and a few more of us. "

"Oh, confound Dacre!" Tommy's irritation returned with a rush. "I detestthe man! He behaves as if he were conferring a favour. When he wasmaking that speech to-night, I wanted to fling my glass at him. "

"Ah, but you mustn't do those things. " Monck spoke reprovingly. "You maybe young, but you're past the schoolboy stage. Dacre is more of awoman's favourite than a man's, you must remember. If your sister is notin love with him, she is about the only woman in the station who isn't. "

"That's the disgusting part of it, " fumed Tommy. "He makes love toevery woman he meets. "

They had reached a shadowy compound that bordered the dusty road for afew yards. A little eddying wind made a mysterious whisper among itsthirsty shrubs. The bungalow it surrounded showed dimly in thestarlight, a wooden structure with a raised verandah and a flight ofsteps leading up to it. A light thrown by a red-shaded lamp shone outfrom one of the rooms, casting a shaft of ruddy brilliance into thenight as though it defied the splendour without. It shone upon Tommy'sface as he paused, showing it troubled and anxious. 

"You may as well come in, " he said. "She is sure to be ready. Come inand have a drink!"

Monck stood still. His dark face was in shadow. He seemed to be debatingsome point with himself. 

Finally, "All right. Just for a minute, " he said. "But, look here, Tommy! Don't you let your sister suspect that you've been making aconfidant of me! I don't fancy it would please her. Put on a grin, man!Don't look bowed down with family cares! She is probably quite capableof looking after herself--like the rest of 'em. "

He clapped a careless hand on the lad's shoulder as they turned up thepath together towards the streaming red light. 

"You're a bit of a woman-hater, aren't you?" said Tommy. 

And Monck laughed again his short, rather bitter laugh; but he said noword in answer. 

CHAPTER II

THE PRISONER AT THE BAR

In the room with the crimson-shaded lamp Stella Denvers sat waiting. Thered glow compassed her warmly, striking wonderful copper gleams in theburnished coils of her hair. Her face was bent over the long whitegloves that she was pulling over her wrists, a pale face that yet wasextraordinarily vivid, with features that were delicate and proud, andlips that had the exquisite softness and purity of a flower. 

She raised her eyes from her task at sound of the steps below thewindow, and their starry brightness under her straight black brows gaveher an infinite allurement. Certainly a beautiful woman, as Monck hadsaid, and possessing the brilliance and the wonder of youth to an almostdazzling degree! Perhaps it was not altogether surprising that theladies of the regiment had not been too enthusiastic in their welcome ofthis sister of Tommy's who had come so suddenly into their midst, defying convention. Her advent had been utterly unexpected--a totalsurprise even to Tommy, who, returning one day from the polo-ground, had found her awaiting him in the bachelor quarters which he had sharedwith three other subalterns. And her arrival had set the whole stationbuzzing. 

Led by the Colonel's wife, Lady Harriet Mansfield, the women of theregiment had--with the single exception of Mrs. Ralston whose opinionwas of no account--risen and condemned the splendid stranger who hadcome amongst them with such supreme audacity and eclipsed the fairest ofthem. Stella's own simple explanation that she had, upon attaining hermajority and fifty pounds a year, decided to quit the home of somedistant relatives who did not want her and join Tommy who was the onlynear relation she had, had satisfied no one. She was an interloper, andas such they united to treat her. As Lady Harriet said, no nice girlwould have dreamed of taking such an extraordinary step, and she had notthe smallest intention of offering her the chaperonage that she soconspicuously lacked. If Mrs. Ralston chose to do so, that was her ownaffair. Such action on the part of the surgeon's very ordinary wifewould make no difference to any one. She was glad to think that all theother ladies were too well-bred to accept without reservation sounconventional a type. 

The fact that she was Tommy's sister was the only consideration in herfavour. Tommy was quite a nice boy, and they could not for his sakeentirely exclude her from the regimental society, but to no intimategathering was she ever invited, nor from the female portion of thecommunity was there any welcome for her at the Club. 

The attitude of the officers of the regiment was of a totally differentnature. They had accepted her with enthusiasm, possibly all the moremarked on account of the aloofness of their women folk, and in a veryshort time they were paying her homage as one man. The subalterns whohad shared their quarters with Tommy turned out to make room for her, treating her like a queen suddenly come into her own, and like a queenshe entered into possession, accepting all courtesy just as she ignoredall slights with a delicate self-possession that yet knew how to begracious when occasion demanded. 

Mrs. Ralston would have offered her harbourage had she desired it, butthere was pride in Stella--a pride that surged and rebelled very farbelow her serenity. She received favours from none. 

And so, unshackled and unchaperoned, she had gone her way among hercritics, and no one--not even Tommy--suspected how deep was the woundthat their barely-veiled hostility had inflicted. In bitterness of soulshe hid it from all the world, and only her brother and her brother'sgrim and somewhat unapproachable captain were even vaguely aware of itsexistence. 

Everard Monck was one of the very few men who had not laid themselvesdown before her dainty feet, and she had gradually come to believe thatthis man shared the silent, side-long disapproval manifested by thewomen. Very strangely that belief hurt her even more deeply, in asubtle, incomprehensible fashion, than any slights inflicted by her ownsex. Possibly Tommy's warm enthusiasm for the man had made her moresensitive regarding his good opinion. And possibly she was over ready toread condemnation in his grave eyes. But--whatever the reason--she wouldhave given much to have had him on her side. Somehow it mattered to her, and mattered vitally. 

But Monck had never joined her retinue of courtiers. He was never otherthan courteous to her, but he did not seek her out. Perhaps he hadbetter things to do. Aloof, impenetrable, cold, he passed her by, andshe would have been even more amazed than Tommy had she heard himdescribe her as beautiful, so convinced was she that he saw in her nocharm. 

It had been a disheartening struggle, this hewing for herself a wayalong the rocky paths of prejudice, and many had been the thorns underher feet. Though she kept a brave heart and never faltered, she hadtired inevitably of the perpetual effort it entailed. Three weeks afterher arrival, when the annual exodus of the ladies of the regiment to theHills was drawing near, she became engaged to Ralph Dacre, thehandsomest and most irresponsible man in the mess. 

With him at least her power to attract was paramount. He was blindly, almost fulsomely, in love. Her beauty went to his head from the outset;it fired his blood. He worshipped her hotly, and pursued her untiringly, caring little whether she returned his devotion so long as he ultimatelytook possession. And when finally, half-disdainfully, she yielded to hisinsistence, his one all-mastering thought became to clinch the bargainbefore she could repent of it. It was a mad and headlong passion thatdrove him--not for the first time in his life; and the subtle pride ofher and the soft reserve made her all the more desirable in his eyes. 

He had won her; he did not stop to ask himself how. The women said thatthe luck was all on her side. The men forebore to express an opinion. Dacre had attained his captaincy, but he was not regarded with greatrespect by any one. His fellow-officers shrugged their shoulders overhim, and the commanding officer, Colonel Mansfield, had been heard tocall him "the craziest madman it had ever been his fate to meet. " Noone, except Tommy, actively disliked him, and he had no grounds for sodoing, as Monck had pointed out. Monck, who till then had occupied thesame bungalow, declared he had nothing against him, and he was surely ina position to form a very shrewd opinion. For Monck was neither fool normadman, and there was very little that escaped his silent observation. 

He was acting as best man at the morrow's ceremony, the function havingbeen almost thrust upon him by Dacre who, oddly enough, sharedsomething of Tommy's veneration for his very reticent brother-officer. There was scant friendship between them. Each had been accustomed to gohis own way wholly independent of the other. They were no more thancasual acquaintances, and they were content to remain such. Butundoubtedly Dacre entertained a certain respect for Monck and observed awariness of behaviour in his presence that he never troubled to assumefor any other man. He was careful in his dealings with him, being at alltimes not wholly certain of his ground. 

Other men felt the same uncertainty in connection with Monck. None--saveTommy--was sure what manner of man he was. Tommy alone took him forgranted with whole-hearted admiration, and at his earnest wish it hadbeen arranged between them that Monck should take up his abode with himwhen the forthcoming marriage had deprived each of a companion. Tommywas delighted with the idea, and he had a gratifying suspicion thatMonck himself was inclined to be pleased with it also. 

The Green Bungalow had become considerably more homelike since Stella'sarrival, and Tommy meant to keep it so. He was sure that Monck and hewould have the same tastes. 

And so on that eve of his sister's wedding, the thought of their comingcompanionship was the sole redeeming feature of the whole affair, andhe turned in his impulsive fashion to say so just as they reached theverandah steps. 

But the words did not leave his lips, for the red glow flung from thelamp had found Monck's upturned face, and something--something aboutit--checked all speech for the moment. He was looking straight up at thelighted window and the face of a beautiful woman who gazed forth intothe night. And his eyes were no longer cold and unresponsive, butburning, ardent, intensely alive. Tommy forgot what he was going to sayand only stared. 

The moment passed; it was scarcely so much as a moment. And Monck movedon in his calm, unfaltering way. 

"Your sister is ready and waiting, " he said. 

They ascended the steps together, and the girl who sat by the openwindow rose with a stately movement and stepped forward to meet them. 

"Hullo, Stella!" was Tommy's greeting. "Hope I'm not awfully late. Theywasted such a confounded time over toasts at mess to-night. Yours wasone of 'em, and I had to reply. I hadn't a notion what to say. CaptainMonck thinks I made an awful hash of it though he is too considerate tosay so. "

"On the contrary I said 'Hear, hear!' to every stutter, " said Monck, bowing slightly as he took the hand she offered. 

She was wearing a black lace dress with a glittering spangled scarf ofIndian gauze floating about her. Her neck and shoulders gleamed in thesoft red glow. She was superb that night. 

She smiled at Monck, and her smile was as a shining cloak hiding hersoul. "So you have started upon your official duties already!" she said. "It is the best man's business to encourage and console everyoneconcerned, isn't it?"

The faint cynicism of her speech was like her smile. It held back allintrusive curiosity. And the man's answering smile had something of thesame quality. Reserve met reserve. 

"I hope I shall not find it very arduous in that respect, " he said. "Idid not come here in that capacity. "

"I am glad of that, " she said. "Won't you come in and sit down?"

She motioned him within with a queenly gesture, but her invitation waswholly lacking in warmth. It was Tommy who pressed forward with eagerhospitality. 

"Yes, and have a drink! It's a thirsty right. It's getting infernallyhot. Stella, you're lucky to be going out of it. "

"Oh, I am very lucky, " Stella said. 

They entered the lighted room, and Tommy went in search of refreshment. 

"Won't you sit down?" said Stella. 

Her voice was deep and pure, and the music in it made him wonder if shesang. He sat facing her while she returned with apparent absorption tothe fastening of her gloves. She spoke again after a moment withoutraising her eyes. "Are you proposing to take up your abode hereto-morrow?"

"That's the idea, " said Monck. 

"I hope you and Tommy will be quite comfortable, " she said. "No doubt hewill be a good deal happier with you than he has been for the past fewweeks with me. "

"I don't know why he should be, " said Monck. 

"No?" She was frowning slightly over her glove. "You see, my sojournhere has not been--a great success. I think poor Tommy has felt itrather badly. He likes a genial atmosphere. "

"He won't get much of that in my company, " observed Monck. 

She smiled momentarily. "Perhaps not. But I think he will not be sorryto be relieved of family cares. They have weighed rather heavily uponhim. "

"He will be sorry to lose you, " said Monck. 

"Oh, of course, in a way. But he will soon get over that. " She looked upat him suddenly. "You will all be rather thankful when I am safelymarried, Captain Monck, " she said. 

There was a second or two of silence. Monck's eyes looked straight backinto hers while it lasted, but they held no warmth, scarcely eveninterest. 

"I really don't know why you should say that, Miss Denvers, " he saidstiffly at length. 

Stella's gloved hands clasped each other. She was breathing somewhathard, yet her bearing was wholly regal, even disdainful. 

"Only because I realize that I have been a great anxiety to all therespectable portion of the community, " she made careless reply. "I thinkI am right in classing you under that heading, am I not?"

He heard the challenge in her tone, delicately though she presented it, and something in him that was fierce and unrestrained sprang up to meetit. But he forced it back. His expression remained wholly inscrutable. 

"I don't think I can claim to be anything else, " he said. "But that factscarcely makes me in any sense one of a community. I think I prefer tostand alone. "

Her blue eyes sparkled a little. "Strangely, I have the samepreference, " she said. "It has never appealed to me to be one of acrowd. I like independence--whatever the crowd may say. But I am quiteaware that in a woman that is considered a dangerous taste. A womanshould always conform to rule. "

"I have never studied the subject, " said Monck. 

He spoke briefly. Tommy's confidences had stirred within him that whichcould not be expressed. The whole soul of him shrank with an almostangry repugnance from discussing the matter with her. No discussioncould make any difference at this stage. 

Again for a second he saw her slight frown. Then she leaned back in herchair, stretching up her arms as if weary of the matter. "In fact youavoid all things feminine, " she said. "How discreet of you!"

A large white moth floated suddenly in and began to beat itself againstthe lamp-shade. Monck's eyes watched it with a grim concentration. Stella's were half-closed. She seemed to have dismissed him from hermind as an unimportant detail. The silence widened between them. 

Suddenly there was a movement. The fluttering creature had found theflame and fallen dazed upon the table. Almost in the same second Monckstooped forward swiftly and silently, and crushed the thing with hisclosed fist. 

Stella drew a quick breath. Her eyes were wide open again. She sat up. 

"Why did you do that?"

He looked at her again, a smouldering gleam in his eyes. "It was on itsway to destruction, " he said. 

"And so you helped it!"

He nodded. "Yes. Long-drawn-out agonies don't attract me. "

Stella laughed softly, yet with a touch of mockery. "Oh, it was an actof mercy, was it? You didn't look particularly merciful. In fact, thatis about the last quality I should have attributed to you. "

"I don't think, " Monck said very quietly, "that you are in a position tojudge me. " She leaned forward. He saw that her bosom was heaving. "Thatis your prerogative, isn't it?" she said. "I--I am just the prisoner atthe bar, and--like the moth--I have been condemned--without mercy. "

He raised his brows sharply. For a second he had the look of a man whohas been stabbed in the back. Then with a swift effort he pulled himselftogether. 

In the same moment Stella rose. She was smiling, and there was a redflush in her cheeks. She took her fan from the table. 

"And now, " she said, "I am going to dance--all night long. Every officerin the mess--save one--has asked me for a dance. "

He was on his feet in an instant. He had checked one impulse, but evento his endurance there were limits. He spoke as one goaded. 

"Will you give me one?"

She looked him squarely in the eyes. "No, Captain Monck. "

His dark face looked suddenly stubborn. "I don't often dance, " he said. "I wasn't going to dance to-night. But--I will have one--I must haveone--with you. "

"Why?" Her question fell with a crystal clearness. There was somethingof crystal hardness in her eyes. 

But the man was undaunted. "Because you have wronged me, and you owe mereparation. "

"I--have wronged--you!" She spoke the words slowly, still looking him inthe eyes. 

He made an abrupt gesture as of holding back some inner force thatstrongly urged him. "I am not one of your persecutors, " he said. "I havenever in my life presumed to judge you--far less condemn you. "

His voice vibrated as though some emotion fought fiercely for themastery. They stood facing each other in what might have been openantagonism but for that deep quiver in the man's voice. 

Stella spoke after the lapse of seconds. She had begun to tremble. 

"Then why--why did you let me think so? Why did you always stand aloof?"

There was a tremor in her voice also, but her eyes were shining with thelight half-eager, half-anxious, of one who seeks for buried treasure. 

Monck's answer was pitched very low. It was as if the soul of him gaveutterance to the words. "It is my nature to stand aloof. I was waiting. "

"Waiting?" Her two hands gripped suddenly hard upon her fan, but stillher shining eyes did not flinch from his. Still with a quivering heartshe searched. 

Almost in a whisper came his reply. "I was waiting--till my turn shouldcome. "

"Ah!" The fan snapped between her hands; she cast it from her with amovement that was almost violent. 

Monck drew back sharply. With a smile that was grimly cynical he veiledhis soul. "I was a fool, of course, and I am quite aware that myfoolishness is nothing to you. But at least you know now how littlecause you have to hate me. "

She had turned from him and gone to the open window. She stood therebending slightly forward, as one who strains for a last glimpse ofsomething that has passed from sight. 

Monck remained motionless, watching her. From another room near by therecame the sound of Tommy's humming and the cheery pop of a withdrawncork. 

Stella spoke at last, in a whisper, and as she spoke the strain went outof her attitude and she drooped against the wood-work of the window asif spent. "Yes; but I know--too late. "

The words reached him though he scarcely felt that they were intended todo so. He suffered them to go into silence; the time for speech waspast. 

The seconds throbbed away between them. Stella did not move or speakagain, and at last Monck turned from her. He picked up the broken fan, and with a curious reverence he laid it out of sight among some books onthe table. 

Then he stood immovable as granite and waited. 

There came the sound of Tommy's footsteps, and in a moment the door wasflung open. Tommy advanced with all a host's solicitude. 

"Oh, I say, I'm awfully sorry to have kept you waiting so long. Thatsilly ass of a _khit_ had cleared off and left us nothing to drink. Stella, we shall miss all the fun if we don't hurry up. Come on, Monck, old chap, say when!"

He stopped at the table, and Stella turned from the window and movedforward. Her face was pale, but she was smiling. 

"Captain Monck is coming with us, Tommy, " she said. 

"What?" Tommy looked up sharply. "Really? I say, Monck, I'm pleased. It'll do you good. "

Monck was smiling also, faintly, grimly. "Don't mix any strong watersfor me, Tommy!" he said. "And you had better not be too generous toyourself! Remember, you will have to dance with Lady Harriet!"

Tommy grimaced above the glasses. "All right. Have some lime-juice! Youwill have to dance with her too. That's some consolation!"

"I?" said Monck. He took the glass and handed it to Stella, then as sheshook her head he put it to his own lips and drank as a man drinks to amemory. "No, " he said then. "I am dancing only one dance to-night, andthat will not be with Lady Harriet Mansfield. "

"Who then?" questioned Tommy. 

It was Stella who answered him, in her voice a note that soundedhalf-reckless, half-defiant. "It isn't given to every woman to dance ather own funeral, " she said: "Captain Monck has kindly consented toassist at the orgy of mine. "

"Stella!" protested Tommy, flushing. "I hate to hear you talking likethat!"

Stella laughed a little, softly, as though at the vagaries of a child. "Poor Tommy!" she said. "What it is to be so young!"

"I'd sooner be a babe in arms than a cynic, " said Tommy bluntly. 

CHAPTER III

THE TRIUMPH

Lady Harriet's lorgnettes were brought piercingly to bear upon thebride-elect that night, and her thin, refined features never relaxedduring the operation. She was looking upon such youth and loveliness asseldom came her way; but the sight gave her no pleasure. She deemed itextremely unsuitable that Stella should dance at all on the eve of herwedding, and when she realized that nearly every man in the room washaving his turn, her disapproval by no means diminished. She wonderedaudibly to one after another of her followers what Captain Dacre wasabout to permit such a thing. And when Monck--Everard Monck of allpeople who usually avoided all gatherings at the Club and had never beenknown to dance if he could find any legitimate means of excusinghimself--waltzed Stella through the throng, her indignation amountedalmost to anger. The mess had yielded to the last man. 

"I call it almost brazen, " she said to Mrs. Burton, the Major's wife. "She flaunts her unconventionality in our faces. "

"A grave mistake, " agreed Mrs. Burton. "It will not make us think anythe more highly of her when she is married. "

"I am in two minds about calling on her, " declared Lady Harriet. "I amvery doubtful as to the advisability of inviting any one so obviouslyunsuitable into our inner circle. Of course Mrs. Ralston, " she raisedher long pointed chin upon the name, "will please herself in the matter. She will probably be the first to try and draw her in, but what Mrs. Ralston does and what I do are two very different things. She is notparticular as to the society she keeps, and the result is that heropinion is very justly regarded as worthless. "

"Oh, quite, " agreed Mrs. Burton, sending an obviously false smile in thedirection of the lady last named who was approaching them in the companyof Mrs. Ermsted, the Adjutant's wife, a little smart woman whom Tommyhad long since surnamed "The Lizard. "

Mrs. Ralston, the surgeon's wife, had once been a pretty girl, and therewere occasions still on which her prettiness lingered like the gleams ofa fading sunset. She had a diffident manner in society, but yet she wasthe only woman in the station who refused to follow Lady Harriet's lead. As Tommy had said, she was a nobody. Her influence was of no account, but yet with unobtrusive insistence she took her own way, and none couldturn her therefrom. 

Mrs. Ermsted held her up to ridicule openly, and yet very strangely shedid not seem to dislike the Adjutant's sharp-tongued little wife. Shehad been very good to her on more than one occasion, and the mostappreciative remark that Mrs. Ermsted had ever found to make regardingher was that the poor thing was so fond of drudging for somebody that itwas a real kindness to let her. Mrs. Ermsted was quite willing to bekind to any one in that respect. 

They approached now, and Lady Harriet gave to each her distinctive smileof royal condescension. 

"I expected to see you dancing, Mrs. Ermsted, " she said. 

"Oh, it's too hot, " declared Mrs. Ermsted. "You want the temperament ofa salamander to dance on a night like this. "

She cast a barbed glance towards Stella as she spoke as Monck guided herto the least crowded corner of the ball-room. Stella's delicate face wasflushed, but it was the exquisite flush of a blush-rose. Her eyes wereof a starry brightness; she had the radiant look of one who has achievedher heart's desire. 

"What a vision of triumph!" commented Mrs. Ermsted. "It's soothinganyway to know that that wild-rose complexion won't survive the summer. Captain Monck looks curiously out of his element. No doubt he prefersthe bazaars. "

"But Stella Denvers is enchanting to-night, " murmured Mrs. Ralston. 

Lady Harriet overheard the murmur, and her aquiline nose was instantlyelevated a little higher. "So many people never see beyond the outerhusk, " she said. 

Mrs. Burton smiled out of her slitty eyes. "I should scarcely imagineCaptain Monck to be one of them, " she said. "He is obviously here as amatter of form to-night. The best man must be civil to thebride--whatever his feelings. "

Lady Harriet's face cleared a little, although her estimate of Mrs. Burton's opinion was not a very high one. "That may account for CaptainDacre's extremely complacent attitude, " she said. "He regards theattentions paid to his _fiancée_ as a tribute to himself. "

"He may change his point of view when he is married, " laughed Mrs. Ermsted. "It will be interesting to watch developments. We all know whatCaptain Dacre is. I have never yet seen him satisfied to take a backseat. "

Mrs. Burton laughed with her. "Nor content to occupy even a front one atthe same show for long, " she observed. "I marvel to see him caught inthe noose so easily. "

"None but an adventuress could have done it, " declared Mrs. Ermsted. "She has practised the art of slinging the lasso before now. "

"My dear, " said Mrs. Ralston, "forgive me, but that is unworthy of you. "

Mrs. Ermsted flicked an eyelid in Mrs. Burton's direction with an_insouciance_ that somehow robbed the act of any serious sting. "PoorMrs. Ralston holds such a high opinion of everybody, " she said, "thatshe must meet with a hundred disappointments in a day. "

Lady Harriet's down-turned lips said nothing, but they were none theless eloquent on that account. 

Mrs. Ralston's eyes of faded blue watched Stella with a distressed look. She was not hurt on her own account, but she hated to hear the girlcriticized in so unfriendly a spirit. Stella was more brilliantlybeautiful that night than she had ever before seen her, and she longedto hear a word of appreciation from that hostile group of women. But sheknew very well that the longing was vain, and it was with relief thatshe saw Captain Dacre himself saunter up to claim Mrs. Ermsted for apartner. 

Smiling, debonair, complacent, the morrow's bridegroom had a carelessquip for all and sundry on that last night. It was evident that his_fiancée's_ defection was a matter of no moment to him. Stella was tohave her fling, and he, it seemed, meant to have his. He and Mrs. Ermsted had had many a flirtation in the days that were past and it waswell known that Captain Ermsted heartily detested him in consequence. Some even hinted that matters had at one time approached very near to aclimax, but Ralph Dacre knew how to handle difficult situations, andwith considerable tact had managed to avoid it. Little Mrs. Ermsted, though still willing to flirt, treated him with just a tinge ofdisdain, now-a-days; no one knew wherefore. Perhaps it was more forStella's edification than her own that she condescended to dance withhim on that sweltering evening of Indian spring. 

But Stella was evidently too engrossed with her own affairs to pay muchattention to the doings of her _fiancé_. His love-making was not of anature to be carried on in public. That would come later when theywalked home through the glittering night and parted in the shadowyverandah while Tommy tramped restlessly about within the bungalow. Hewould claim that as a right she knew, and once or twice remembering themethods of his courtship a little shudder went through her as shedanced. Very willingly would she have left early and foregone allintercourse with her lover that night. But there was no escape for her. She was pledged to the last dance, and for the sake of the pride thatshe carried so high she would not shrink under the malicious eyes thatwatched her so unsparingly. Her dance with Monck was quickly over, andhe left her with the briefest word of thanks. Afterwards she saw him nomore. 

The rest of the evening passed in a whirl of gaiety that meant verylittle to her. Perhaps, on the whole, it was easier to bear than anevening spent in solitude would have been. She knew that she would betoo utterly weary to lie awake when bedtime came at last. And the nightwould be so short--ah, so short! And so she danced and laughed with thegayest of the merrymakers, and when it was over at last even theseverest of her critics had to admit that her triumph was complete. Shehad borne herself like a queen at a banquet of rejoicing, and like aqueen she finally quitted the festive scene in a 'rickshaw drawn by ateam of giddy subalterns, scattering her careless favours upon all whocared to compete for them. 

As she had foreseen, Dacre accompanied the procession. He had no mind tobe cheated of his rights, and it was he who finally dispersed theirresponsible throng at the steps of the verandah, handing her up themwith a royal air and drawing her away from the laughter and cheeringthat followed her. 

With her hand pressed lightly against his side, he led her away to thedarkest corner, and there he pushed back the soft wrap from hershoulders and gathered her into his arms. 

She stood almost stiffly in his embrace, neither yielding nor attemptingto avoid. But at the touch of his lips upon her neck she shivered. Therewas something sensual in that touch that revolted her--in spite ofherself. 

"Ralph, " she said, and her voice quivered a little, "I think you mustsay good-bye to me. I am tired to-night. If I don't rest, I shall neverbe ready for to-morrow. "

He made an inarticulate sound that in some fashion expressed what thedrawing of his lips had made her feel. "Sweetheart--to-morrow!" hesaid, and kissed her again with a lingering persistence that to heroverwrought nerves had in it something that was almost unendurable. Itmade her think of an epicurean tasting some favourite dish and smackinghis lips over it. 

A hint of irritation sounded in her voice as she said, drawing slightlyaway from him, "Yes, I want to rest for the few hours that are left. Please say good night now, Ralph! Really I am tired. "

He laughed softly, his cheek laid to hers. "Ah, Stella!" he said. "Whata queen you have been to-night! I have been watching you with the restof the world, and I shouldn't mind laying pretty heavy odds that thereisn't a single man among 'em that doesn't envy me. "

Stella drew a deep breath as if she laboured against some oppression. "It's nice to be envied, isn't it?" she said. 

He kissed her again. "Ah! You're a prize!" he said. "It was just aquestion of first in, and I never was one to let the grass grow. Iplucked the fruit while all the rest were just looking at it. Stella--mine! Stella--mine!"

His lips pressed hers between the words closely, possessively, and againinvoluntarily she shivered. She could not return his caresses thatnight. 

His hold relaxed at last. "How cold you are, my Star of the North!" hesaid. "What is it? Surely you are not nervous at the thought ofto-morrow after your triumph to-night! You will carry all before you, never fear!"

She answered him in a voice so flat and emotionless that it soundedforeign even to herself. "Oh, no, I am not nervous. I'm too tired tofeel anything to-night. "

He took her face between his hands. "Ah, well, you will be all mine thistime to-morrow. One kiss and I will let you go. You witch--youenchantress! I never thought you would draw old Monck too into yourtoils. "

Again she drew that deep breath as of one borne down by some heavyweight. "Nor I, " she said, and gave him wearily the kiss for which hebargained. 

He did not stay much longer, possibly realizing his inability to awakeany genuine response in her that night. Her remoteness must have chilledany man less ardent. But he went from her too encompassed with blissfulanticipation to attach any importance to the obvious lack ofcorresponding delight on her part. She was already in his estimation hisown property, and the thought of her happiness was one which scarcelyentered into his consideration. She had accepted him, and no doubt sherealized that she was doing very well for herself. He had no misgivingson that point. Stella was a young woman who knew her own mind verythoroughly. She had secured the finest catch within reach, and she wasnot likely to repent of her bargain at this stage. 

So, unconcernedly, he went his way, throwing a couple of _annas_ withcareless generosity to a beggar who followed him along the road whiningfor alms, well-satisfied with himself and with all the world on thatwonderful night that had witnessed the final triumph of the woman whomhe had chosen for his bride, asking nought of the gods save that whichthey had deigned to bestow--Fortune's favourite whom every man mustenvy. 

CHAPTER IV

THE BRIDE

It was remarked by Tommy's brother-officers on the following day that itwas he rather than the bride who displayed all the shyness that befittedthe occasion. 

As he walked up the aisle with his sister's hand on his arm, his facewas crimson and reluctant, and he stared straight before him as ifunwilling to meet all the watching eyes that followed their progress. But the bride walked proudly and firmly, her head held high with eventhe suspicion of an upward, disdainful curve to her beautiful mouth, theghost of a defiant smile. To all who saw her she was a splendidspectacle of bridal content. 

"Unparalleled effrontery!" whispered Lady Harriet, surveying the proudyoung face through her lorgnettes. 

"Ah, but she is exquisite, " murmured Mrs. Ralston with a wistful mist inher faded eyes. 

"'Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null, '" scoffed littleMrs. Ermsted upon whose cheeks there bloomed a faint fixed glow. 

Yes, she was splendid. Even the most hostile had to admit it. On that, the day of her final victory, she surpassed herself. She shone as aqueen with majestic self-assurance, wholly at her ease, sublimelyindifferent to all criticism. 

At the chancel-steps she bestowed a brief smile of greeting upon herwaiting bridegroom, and for a single moment her steady eyes rested, though without any gleam of recognition, upon the dark face of the bestman. 

Then the service began, and with the utmost calmness of demeanour shetook her part. 

When the service was over, Tommy extended his hesitating invitation toLady Harriet and his commanding officer to follow the newly wedded pairto the vestry. They went. Colonel Mansfield with a species of jocosepomposity specially assumed for the occasion, his wife, upright, thin-lipped, forbidding, instinct with wordless disapproval. 

The bride, --the veil thrown back from her beautiful face, --stoodlaughing with her husband. There was no fixity in the soft flush ofthose delicately rounded cheeks. Even Lady Harriet realized that, thoughshe had never seen so much colour in the girl's face before. Sheadvanced stiffly, and Ralph Dacre with smiling grace took his wife's armand drew her forward. 

"This is good of you, Lady Harriet, " he declared. "I was hoping for yoursupport. Allow me to introduce--my wife!"

His words had a pride of possession that rang clarion-like in everysyllable, and in response Lady Harriet was moved to offer a cold cheekin salutation to the bride. Stella bent instantly and kissed it with aquick graciousness that would have melted any one less austere, but inLady Harriet's opinion the act was marred by its very impulsiveness. Shedid not like impulsive people. So, with chill repression, she acceptedthe only overture from Stella that she was ever to receive. 

But if she were proof against the girl's ready charm, with her husbandit was quite otherwise. Stella broke through his pomposity withouteffort, giving him both her hands with a simplicity that went straightto his heart. He held them in a tight, paternal grasp. 

"God bless you, my dear!" he said. "I wish you both every happiness fromthe bottom of my soul. "

She turned from him a few seconds later with a faintly tremulous laughto give her hand to the best man, but it did not linger in his, and tohis curtly proffered felicitations she made no verbal response whatever. 

Ten minutes later, as she left the vestry with her husband, Mrs. Ralstonpressed forward unexpectedly, and openly checked her progress in fullview of the whole assembly. 

"My dear, " she murmured humbly, "my dear, you'll allow me I know. Iwanted just to tell you how beautiful you look, and how earnestly I prayfor your happiness. "

It was a daring move, and it had not been accomplished without courage. Lady Harriet in the background stiffened with displeasure, nearer toactual anger than she had ever before permitted herself to be with anyone so contemptible as the surgeon's wife. Even Major Ralston himself, most phlegmatic of men, looked momentarily disconcerted by his wife'saction. 

But Stella--Stella stopped dead with a new light in her eyes, and in amoment dropped her husband's arm to fling both her own about the gentle, faded woman who had dared thus openly to range herself on her side. 

"Dear Mrs. Ralston, " she said, not very steadily, "how more than kind ofyou to tell me that!"

The tears were actually in her eyes as she kissed the surgeon's wife. That spontaneous act of sympathy had pierced straight through her armourof reserve and found its way to her heart. Her face, as she passed ondown the aisle by her husband's side, was wonderfully softened, and evenMrs. Ermsted found no gibe to fling after her. The smile that quiveredon Stella's lips was full of an unconscious pathos that disarmed allcriticism. 

The sunshine outside the church was blinding. It smote through theawning with pitiless intensity. Around the carriage a curious crowd hadgathered to see the bridal procession. To Stella's dazzled eyes itseemed a surging sea of unfamiliar faces. But one face stood out fromthe rest--the calm countenance of Ralph Dacre's magnificent Sikhservant clad in snowy linen, who stood at the carriage door and gravelybowed himself before her, stretching an arm to protect her dress fromthe wheel. 

"This is Peter the Great, " said Dacre's careless voice, "a highlyhonourable person, Stella, and a most efficient bodyguard. "

"How do you do?" said Stella, and held out her hand. 

She acted with the utmost simplicity. During her four weeks' sojourn inIndia she had not learned to treat the native servant with contempt, andthe majestic presence of this man made her feel almost as if she weredealing with a prince. 

He straightened himself swiftly at her action, and she saw a sudden, gleaming smile flash across his grave face. Then he took the profferedhand, bending low over it till his turbaned forehead for a momenttouched her fingers. 

"May the sun always shine on you, my _mem-sahib!_" he said. 

Stella realized afterwards that in action and in words there lay a tacitacceptance of her as mistress which was to become the allegiance of alifelong service. 

She stepped into the carriage with a feeling of warmth at her heartwhich was very different from the icy constriction that had bound itwhen she had arrived at the church a brief half-hour before with Tommy. 

Her husband's arm was about her as they drove away. He pressed her tohis side. "Oh, Star of my heart, how superb you are!" he said. "I feelas if I had married a queen. And you weren't even nervous. "

She bent her head, not looking at him. "Poor Tommy was, " she said. 

He smiled tolerantly. "Tommy's such a youngster. "

She smiled also. "Exactly one year younger than I am. "

He drew her nearer, his eyes devouring her. "You, Stella!" he said. "Youare as ageless as the stars. "

She laughed faintly, not yielding herself to the closer pressure thoughnot actually resisting it. "That is merely a form of telling me that Iam much older than I seem, " she said. "And you are quite right. I am. "

His arm compelled her. "You are you, " he said. "And you are so divinelyyoung and beautiful that there is no measuring you by ordinarystandards. They all know it. That is why you weren't received into thecommunity with open arms. You are utterly above and beyond them all. "

She flinched slightly at the allusion. "I hope I am not so extraordinaryas all that, " she said. 

His arm became insistent. "You are unique, " he said. "You are superb. "

There was passion barely suppressed in his hold and a sudden swiftshiver went through her. "Oh, Ralph, " she said, "don't--- don't worshipme too much!"

Her voice quivered in its appeal, but somehow its pathos passed him by. He saw only her beauty, and it thrilled every pulse in his body. Fiercely almost, he strained her to him. And he did not so much asnotice that her lips trembled too piteously to return his kiss, or thather submission to his embrace was eloquent of mute endurance rather thanglad surrender. He stood as a conqueror on the threshold of a newlyacquired kingdom and exulted over the splendour of its treasures becauseit was all his own. 

It did not even occur to him to doubt that her happiness fully equalledhis. Stella was a woman and reserved; but she was happy enough, oh, shewas happy enough. With complacence he reflected that if every man in themess envied him, probably every woman in the station would have gladlychanged places with her. Was he not Fortune's favourite? What happierfate could any woman desire than to be his bride?

CHAPTER V

THE DREAM

It was a fortnight after the wedding, on an evening of intense heat, that Everard Monck, now established with Tommy at The Green Bungalow, came in from polo to find the mail awaiting him. He sauntered in throughthe verandah in search of a drink which he expected to find in the roomwhich Stella during her brief sojourn had made more dainty and artisticthan the rest, albeit it had never been dignified by the name ofdrawing-room. There was light green matting on the floor and there werealso light green cushions in each of the long wicker chairs. Curtains ofgreen gauze hung before the windows, and the fierce sunlight filteringthrough gave the room a strangely translucent effect. It was like achamber under the sea. 

It had been Monck's intention to have his drink and pass straight on tohis own quarters for a bath, but the letters on the table caught his eyeand he stopped. Standing in the green dimness with a tumbler in onehand, he sorted them out. There were two for himself and two for Tommy, the latter obviously bills, and under these one more, also for Tommy ina woman's clear round writing. It came from Srinagar, and Monck stoodfor a second or two holding it in his hand and staring straight outbefore him with eyes that saw not. Just for those seconds a mockingvision danced gnomelike through his brain. Just at this moment probablymost of the other men were opening letters from their wives in theHills. And he saw the chance he had not taken like a flash of far, elusive sunlight on the sky-line of a troubled sea. 

The vision passed. He laid down the letter and took up his owncorrespondence. One of the letters was from England. He poured out hisdrink and flung himself down to read it. 

It came from the only relation he possessed in the world--his brother. Bernard Monck was the elder by fifteen years--a man of brilliantcapabilities, who had long since relinquished all idea of worldlyadvancement in the all-absorbing interest of a prison chaplaincy. Theyhad not met for over five years, but they maintained a regularcorrespondence, and every month brought to Everard Monck the thinenvelope directed in the square, purposeful handwriting of the man whohad been during the whole of his life his nearest and best friend. Lyingback in the wicker-chair, relaxed and weary, he opened the letter andbegan to read. 

Ten minutes later, Tommy Denvers, racing in, also in polo-kit, stoppedshort upon the threshold and stared in shocked amazement as if somesudden horror had caught him by the throat. 

"Great heavens above, Monck! What's the matter?" he ejaculated. 

Perhaps it was in part due to the green twilight of the room, but itseemed to him in that first startled moment that Monck's face had thelook of a man who had received a deadly wound. The impression passedalmost immediately, but the memory of it was registered in his brain forall time. 

Monck raised the tumbler to his lips and drank before replying, and ashe did so his customary grave composure became apparent, making Tommywonder if his senses had tricked him. He looked at the lad with sombreeyes as he set down the glass. His brother's letter was still gripped inhis hand. 

"Hullo, Tommy!" he said, a shadowy smile about his mouth. "What are youin such a deuce of a hurry about?"

Tommy glanced down at the letters on the table and pounced upon the onethat lay uppermost. "A letter from Stella! And about time, too! Sheisn't much of a correspondent now-a-days. Where are they now? Oh, Srinagar. Lucky beggar--Dacre! Wish he'd taken me along as well asStella! What am I in such a hurry about? Well, my dear chap, look at thetime! You'll be late for mess yourself if you don't buck up. "

Tommy's treatment of his captain was ever of the airiest when they werealone. He had never stood in awe of Monck since the days of hisillness; but even in his most familiar moments his manner was notwithout a certain deference. His respect for him was unbounded, and hispride in their intimacy was boyishly whole-hearted. There was nosacrifice great or small that he would not willingly have offered atMonck's behest. 

And Monck knew it, realized the lad's devotion as pure gold, and valuedit accordingly. But, that fact notwithstanding, his faith in Tommy'sdiscretion did not move him to bestow his unreserved confidence uponhim. Probably to no man in the world could he have opened his secretsoul. He was not of an expansive nature. But Tommy occupied an innerplace in his regard, and there were some things that he veiled from allbeside which he no longer attempted to hide from this faithful followerof his. Thus far was Tommy privileged. 

He got to his feet in response to the boy's last remark. "Yes, you'reright. We ought to be going. I shall be interested to hear what yoursister thinks of Kashmir. I went up there on a shooting expedition twoyears after I came out. It's a fine country. "

"Is there anywhere that you haven't been?" said Tommy. "I believe you'llwrite a book one of these days. "

Monck looked ironical. "Not till I'm on the shelf, Tommy, " he said, "where there's nothing better to do. "

"You'll never be on the shelf, " said Tommy quickly. "You'll be much toovaluable. "

Monck shrugged his shoulders slightly and turned to go. "I doubt if thatconsideration would occur to any one but you, my boy, " he said. 

They walked to the mess-house together a little later through theairless dark, and there was nothing in Monck's manner either then orduring the evening to confirm the doubt in Tommy's mind. Spirits werenot very high at the mess just then. Nearly all the women had left forthe Hills, and the increasing heat was beginning to make life a burden. The younger officers did their best to be cheerful, and one of them, Bertie Oakes, a merry, brainless youngster, even proposed an impromptudance to enliven the proceedings. But he did not find many supporters. Men were tired after the polo. Colonel Mansfield and Major Burton weredeeply engrossed with some news that had been brought by Barnes of thePolice, and no one mustered energy for more than talk. 

Tommy soon decided to leave early and return to his letters. Beforedeparting, he looked round for Monck as was his custom, but finding thathe and Captain Ermsted had also been drawn into the discussion with theColonel, he left the mess alone. 

Back in The Green Bungalow he flung off his coat and threw himself downin his shirt-sleeves on the verandah to read his sister's letter. Thelight from the red-shaded lamp streamed across the pages. Stella hadwritten very fully of their wanderings, but her companion she scarcelymentioned. 

It was like a gorgeous dream, she said. Each day seemed to bringgreater beauties. They had spent the first two at Agra to see thewonderful Taj which of course was wholly beyond description. Thence theyhad made their way to Rawal Pindi where Ralph had several militaryfriends to be introduced to his bride. It was evident that he wasanxious to display his new possession, and Tommy frowned a little overthat episode, realizing fully why Stella touched so lightly upon it. Forsome reason his dislike of Dacre was increasing rapidly, and he read theletter very critically. It was the first with any detail that she hadwritten. From Rawal Pindi they had journeyed on to exquisite Murree setin the midst of the pines where only to breathe was the keenestpleasure. Stella spoke almost wistfully of this place; she would haveloved to linger there. 

"I could be happy there in perfect solitude, " she wrote, "with justPeter the Great to take care of me. " She mentioned the Sikh bearer morethan once and each time with growing affection. "He is like an immenseand kindly watch-dog, " she said in one place. "Every material comfortthat I could possibly wish for he manages somehow to procure, and he isalways on guard, always there when wanted, yet never in the way. "

Their time being limited and Ralph anxious to use it to the utmost, theyhad left Murree after a very brief stay and pressed on into Kashmir, travelling in a _tonga_ through the most glorious scenery that Stellahad ever beheld. 

"I only wished you could have been there to enjoy it with me, " shewrote, and passed on to a glowing description of the Hills amidst whichthey had travelled, all grandly beautiful and many capped with theeternal snows. She told of the River Jhelum, swift and splendid, thatflowed beside the way, of the flowers that bloomed in dazzling profusionon every side--wild roses such as she had never dreamed of, purpleacacias, jessamine yellow and white, maiden-hair ferns that hung insprays of living green over the rushing waterfalls, and the vivid, scarlet pomegranate blossom that grew like a spreading fire. 

And the air that blew through the mountains was as the very breath oflife. Physically, she declared, she had never felt so well; but she didnot speak of happiness, and again Tommy's brow contracted as he read. 

For all its enthusiasm, there was to him something wanting in thatletter--a lack that hurt him subtly. Why did she say so little of hercompanion in the wilderness? No casual reader would have dreamed thatthe narrative had been written by a bride upon her honeymoon. 

He read on, read of their journey up the river to Srinagar, punted bynative boatmen, and again, as she spoke of their sad, droning chant, shecompared it all to a dream. "I wonder if I am really asleep, Tommy, " shewrote, "if I shall wake up in the middle of a dark night and find that Ihave never left England after all. That is what I feel likesometimes--almost as if life had been suspended for awhile. This strangeexistence cannot be real. I am sure that at the heart of me I must beasleep. "

At Srinagar, a native _fête_ had been in progress, and the howling ofmen and din of _tom-toms_ had somewhat marred the harmony of theirarrival. But it was all interesting, like an absorbing fairy-tale, shesaid, but quite unreal. She felt sure it couldn't be true. Ralph hadbeen disgusted with the hubbub and confusion. He compared the place toan asylum of filthy lunatics, and they had left it without delay. And soat last they had come to their present abiding-place in the heart of thewilderness with coolies, pack-horses, and tents, and were camped besidea rushing stream that filled the air with its crystal music day andnight. "And this is Heaven, " wrote Stella; "but it is the Heaven of theOrient, and I am not sure that I have any part or lot in it. I believe Ishall feel myself an interloper for all time. I dread to turn eachcorner lest I should meet the Angel with the Flaming Sword and be drivenforth into the desert. If only you were here, Tommy, it would be morereal to me. But Ralph is just a part of the dream. He is almost like anEastern potentate himself with his endless cigarettes and his wonderfulcapacity for doing nothing all day long without being bored. Of course, I am not bored, but then no one ever feels bored in a dream. The lazywell-being of it all has the effect of a narcotic so far as I amconcerned. I cannot imagine ever feeling active in this lullingatmosphere. Perhaps there is too much champagne in the air and I amnever wholly sober. Perhaps it is only in the desert that any one everlives to the utmost. The endless singing of the stream is hushing meinto a sweet drowsiness even as I write. By the way, I wonder if I havewritten sense. If not, forgive me! But I am much too lazy to read itthrough. I think I must have eaten of the lotus. Good-bye, Tommy dear!Write when you can and tell me that all is well with you, as I think itmust be--though I cannot tell--with your always loving, though for themoment strangely bewitched, sister, Stella. "

Tommy put down the letter and lay still, peering forth under frowningbrows. He could hear Monck's footsteps coming through the gate of thecompound, but he was not paying any attention to Monck for once. Histroubled mind scarcely even registered the coming of his friend. 

Only when the latter mounted the steps on to the verandah and began tomove along it, did he turn his head and realize his presence. Monck cameto a stand beside him. 

"Well, Tommy, " he said, "isn't it time to turn in?"

Tommy sat up. "Oh, I suppose so. Infernally hot, isn't it? I've beenreading Stella's letter. "

Monck lodged his shoulder against the window-frame. "I hope she is allright, " he said formally. 

His voice sounded pre-occupied. It did not convey to Tommy the idea thathe was greatly interested in his reply. 

He answered with something of an effort. "I believe she is. She doesn'treally say. I wish they had been content to stay at Bhulwana. I couldhave got leave to go over and see her there. "

"Where exactly are they now?" asked Monck. 

Tommy explained to the best of his ability. "Srinagar seems theirnearest point of civilization. They are camping in the wilderness, butthey will have to move before long. Dacre's leave will be up, and theymust allow time to get back. Stella talks as if they are fixed there forever and ever. "

"She is enjoying it then?" Monck's voice still sounded as if he werethinking of something else. 

Tommy made grudging reply. "I suppose she is, after a fashion. I'mpretty sure of one thing. " He spoke with abrupt force. "She'd enjoy it adeal more if I were with her instead of Dacre. "

Monck laughed, a curt, dry laugh. "Jealous, eh?"

"No, I'm not such a fool. " The boy spoke recklessly. "But I know--Ican't help knowing--that she doesn't care twopence about the man. Whatwoman with any brains could?"

"There's no accounting for women's tastes or actions at any time, " saidMonck. "She liked him well enough to marry him. "

Tommy made an indignant sound. "She was in a mood to marry any one. She'd probably have married you if you'd asked her. "

Monck made an abrupt movement as if he had lost his balance, but hereturned to his former position immediately. "Think so?" he said in avoice that sounded very ironical. "Then possibly she has had a luckyescape. I might have been moved to ask her if she had remained free muchlonger. "

"I wish to Heaven you had!" said Tommy bluntly. 

And again Monck uttered his short, sardonic laugh. "Thank you, Tommy, "he said. 

There fell a silence between them, and a hot draught eddied up throughthe parched compound and rattled the scorched twigs of the creeping roseon the verandah with a desolate sound, as if skeleton hands were feelingalong the trellis-work. Tommy suppressed a shudder and got to his feet. 

In the same moment Monck spoke again, deliberately, emotionlessly, witha hint of grimness. "By the way, Tommy, I've a piece of news for you. That letter I had from my brother this, evening contained news of anurgent business matter which only I can deal with. It has come at arather unfortunate moment as Barnes, the policeman, brought somedisturbing information this evening from Khanmulla and the Chief wantedto make use of me in that quarter. They are sending a Mission to makeinvestigations and they wanted me to go in charge of it. "

"Oh, man!" Tommy's eyes suddenly shone with enthusiasm. "What achance!"

"A chance I'm not going to take, " rejoined Monck dryly. "I applied forleave instead. In any case it is due to me, but Dacre had his turnfirst. The Chief didn't want to grant it, but he gave way in the end. You boys will have to work a little harder than usual, that's all. "

Tommy was staring at him in amazement. "But, I say, Monck!" heprotested. "That Mission business! It's the very thing you'd most enjoy. Surely you can't be going to let such an opportunity slip!"

"My own business is more pressing, " Monck returned briefly. 

Then Tommy remembered the stricken look that he had surprised on hisfriend's face that evening, and swift concern swallowed hisastonishment. "You had bad news from Home! I say, I'm awfully sorry. Isyour brother ill, or what?"

"No. It's not that. I can't discuss it with you, Tommy. But I've got togo. The Chief has granted me eight weeks and I am off at dawn. " Monckmade as if he would turn inwards with the words. 

"You're going Home?" ejaculated Tommy. "By Jove, old fellow, it'll bequick work. " Then, his sympathy coming uppermost again, "I say, I'mconfoundedly sorry. You'll take care of yourself?"

"Oh, every care. " Monck paused to lay an unexpected hand upon the lad'sshoulder. "And you must take care of yourself, Tommy, " he said. "Don'tget up to any tomfoolery while I am away! And if you get thirsty, stickto lime-juice!"

"I'll be as good as gold, " Tommy promised, touched alike by action andadmonition. "But it will be pretty beastly without you. I hate a lonelylife, and Stella will be stuck at Bhulwana for the rest of the hotweather when they get back. "

"Well, I shan't stay away for ever, " Monck patted his shoulder andturned away. "I'm not going for a pleasure trip, and the sooner it'sover, the better I shall be pleased. "

He passed into the room with the words, that room in which Stella hadsat on her wedding-eve, gazing forth into the night. And there came toTommy, all-unbidden, a curious, wandering memory of his friend's face onthat same night, with eyes alight and ardent, looking upwards as thoughthey saw a vision. Perplexed and vaguely troubled, he thrust her letteraway into his pocket and went to his own room. 

CHAPTER VI

THE GARDEN

The Heaven of the Orient! It was a week since Stella had penned thosewords, and still the charm held her, the wonder grew. Never in her lifehad she dreamed of a land so perfect, so subtly alluring, sooverwhelmingly full of enchantment. Day after day slipped by in whatseemed an endless succession. Night followed magic night, and the spellwound closer and ever closer about her. She sometimes felt as if hervery individuality were being absorbed into the marvellous beauty abouther, as if she had been crystallized by it and must soon cease to be inany sense a being apart from it. 

The siren-music of the torrent that dashed below their camping-groundfilled her brain day and night. It seemed to make active thoughtimpossible, to dull all her senses save the one luxurious sense ofenjoyment. That was always present, slumbrous, almost cloying in itsunfailing sweetness, the fruit of the lotus which assuredly she waseating day by day. All her nerves seemed dormant, all her energieslulled. Sometimes she wondered if the sound of running water had thisstultifying effect upon her, for wherever they went it followed them. The snow-fed streams ran everywhere, and since leaving Srinagar shecould not remember a single occasion on which they had been out ofearshot of their perpetual music. It haunted her like a ceaselessrefrain, but yet she never wearied of it. There was no thought ofweariness in this mazed, dream-world of hers. 

At the beginning of her married life, so far behind her now that shescarcely remembered it, she had gone through pangs of suffering andfierce regret. Her whole nature had revolted, and it had taken all herstrength to quell it. But that was long, long past. She had ceased tofeel anything now, but a dumb and even placid acquiescence in thislethargic existence, and Ralph Dacre was amply satisfied therewith. Hehad always been abundantly confident of his power to secure herhappiness, and he was blissfully unconscious of the wild impulse torebellion which she had barely stifled. He had no desire to sound thedeeps of her. He was quite content with life as he found it, content toshare with her the dreamy pleasures that lay in this fruitfulwilderness, and to look not beyond. 

He troubled himself but little about the future, though when he thoughtof it that was with pleasure too. He liked, now and then, to lookforward to the days that were coming when Stella would shine as aqueen--his queen--among an envious crowd. Her position assured as hiswife, even Lady Harriet herself would have to lower her flag. And howlittle Netta Ermsted would grit her teeth! He laughed to himselfwhenever he thought of that. Netta had become too uppish of late. Itwould be amusing to see how she took her lesson. 

And as for his brother-officers, even the taciturn Monck had alreadyshown that he was not proof against Stella's charms. He wondered whatStella thought of the man, well knowing that few women liked him, andone evening, as they sat together in the scented darkness with the roarof their mountain-stream filling the silences, he turned their fitfulconversation in Monck's direction to satisfy his lazy curiosity in thisrespect. 

"I suppose I ought to write to the fellow, " he said, "but if you'vewritten to Tommy it's almost the same thing. Besides, I don't suppose hewould be in the smallest degree interested. He would only be bored. "

There was a pause before Stella answered; but she was often slow ofspeech in those days. "I thought you were friends, " she said. 

"What? Oh, so we are. " Ralph Dacre laughed, his easy, complacent laugh. "But he's a dark horse, you know. I never know quite how to take him. Your brother Tommy is a deal more intimate with him than I am, though Ihave stabled with him for over four years. He's a very clever fellow, there's no doubt of that--altogether too brainy for my taste. Cleverfellows always bore me. Now I wonder how he strikes you. "

Again there was that slight pause before Stella spoke, but there wasnothing very vital about it. She seemed to be slow in bringing her mindto bear upon the subject. "I agree with you, " she said then. "He isclever. And he is kind too. He has been very good to Tommy. "

"Tommy would lie down and let him walk over him, " remarked Dacre. "Perhaps that is what he likes. But he's a cold-blooded sort of cuss. Idon't believe he has a spark of real affection for anybody. He is tooambitious. "

"Is he ambitious?" Stella's voice sounded rather weary, wholly void ofinterest. 

Dacre inhaled a deep breath of cigar-smoke and puffed it slowly forth. His curiosity was warming. "Oh yes, ambitious as they're made. Thosestrong, silent chaps always are. And there's no doubt he will make hismark some day. He is a positive marvel at languages. And he dabbles inSecret Service matters too, disguises himself and goes among the nativesin the bazaars as one of themselves. A fellow like that, you know, issimply priceless to the Government. And he is as tough as leather. Theclimate never touches him. He could sit on a grille and be happy. Nodoubt he will be a very big pot some day. " He tipped the ash from hiscigar. "You and I will be comfortably growing old in a villa atCheltenham by that time, " he ended. 

A little shiver went through Stella. She said nothing and silence fellbetween them again. The moon was rising behind a rugged line ofsnow-hills across the valley, touching them here and there with asilvery radiance, casting mysterious shadows all about them, sending amagic twilight over the whole world so that they saw it dimly, asthrough a luminous veil. The scent of Dacre's cigar hung in the air, fragrant, aromatic, Eastern. He was sleepily watching his wife's pureprofile as she gazed into her world of dreams. It was evident that shetook small interest in Monck and his probable career. It was notsurprising. Monck was not the sort of man to attract women; he cared solittle about them--this silent watcher whose eyes were ever searchingbelow the surface of Eastern life, who studied and read and knew so muchmore than any one else and yet who guarded knowledge and methods soclosely that only those in contact with his daily life suspected what hehid. 

"He will surprise us all some day, " Dacre placidly reflected. "Thosequiet, ambitious chaps always soar high. But I wouldn't change places. With him even if he wins to the top of the tree. People who make aspecialty of hard work never get any fun out of anything. By the timethe fun comes along, they are too old to enjoy it. "

And so he lay at ease in his chair, feasting his eyes upon his youngwife's grave face, savouring life with the zest of the epicurean, placidly at peace with all the world on that night of dreams. 

It was growing late, and the moon had topped the distant peaks sending aflood of light across the sleeping valley before he finally threw awaythe stump of his cigar and stretched forth a lazy arm to draw her tohim. 

"Why so silent, Star of my heart? Where are those wandering thoughts ofyours?"

She submitted as usual to his touch, passively, without enthusiasm. "Mythoughts are not worth expressing, Ralph, " she said. 

"Let us hear them all the same!" he said, laying his head against hershoulder. 

She sat very still in his hold. "I was only watching the moonlight, " shesaid. "Somehow it made me think--of a flaming sword. "

"Turning all ways?" he suggested, indolently humorous. "Not driving usforth out of the garden of Eden, I hope? That would be a little hard ontwo such inoffensive mortals as we are, eh, sweetheart?"

"I don't know, " she said seriously. "I doubt if the plea ofinoffensiveness would open the gates of Heaven to any one. "

He laughed. "I can't talk ethics at this time of night, Star of myheart. It's time we went to our lair. I believe you would sit here tillsunrise if I would let you, you most ethereal of women. Do you everthink of your body at all, I wonder?"

He kissed her neck with the careless words, and a quick shiver wentthrough her. She made a slight, scarcely perceptible movement to freeherself. 

But the next moment sharply, almost convulsively, she grasped his arm. "Ralph! What is that?"

She was gazing towards the shadow cast by a patch of flowering azalea inthe moonlight about ten yards from where they sat. Dacre raised himselfwith leisurely self-assurance and peered in the same direction. It wasnot his nature to be easily disturbed. 

But Stella's hand still clung to his arm, and there was agitation in herhold. "What is it?" she whispered. "What can it be? I have seen itmove--twice. Ah, look! Is it--is it--a panther?"

"Good gracious, child, no!" Carelessly he made response, and with thewords disengaged himself from her hand and stood up. "It's more probablysome filthy old beggar who fondly thinks he is going to get _backsheesh_for disturbing us. You stay here while I go and investigate!"

But some nervous impulse goaded Stella. She also started up, holding himback. "Oh, don't go, Ralph! Don't go! Call one of the men! Call Peter!"

He laughed at her agitation. "My dear girl, don't be absurd! I don'twant Peter to help me kick a beastly native. In fact he probablywouldn't lower himself to do such a thing. "

But still she clung to him. "Ralph, don't go! Please don't go! I have afeeling--I am afraid--I--" She broke off panting, her fingers tightlyclutching his sleeve. "Don't go!" she reiterated. 

He put his arm round her. "My dear, what do you think a tatterdemaliongipsy is going to do to me? He may be a snake-charmer, and if so thesooner he is got rid of the better. There! What did I tell you? He iscoming out of his corner. Now, don't be frightened! It doesn't do toshow funk to these people. "

He held her closely to him and waited. Beside the flowering azaleasomething was undoubtedly moving, and as they stood and watched, astrange figure slowly detached itself from the shadows and crept towardsthem. It was clad in native garments and shuffled along in a bentattitude as if deformed. Stella stiffened as she stood. There wassomething unspeakably repellent to her in its toadlike advance. 

"Make one of the men send him away!" she whispered urgently. "Please do!It may be a snake-charmer as you say. He moves like a reptile himself. And I--abhor snakes. "

But Dacre stood his ground. He felt none of her shrinking horror of thebowed, misshapen creature approaching them. In fact he was only curiousto see how far a Kashmiri beggar's audacity would carry him. 

Within half a dozen paces of them, in the full moonlight, the shamblingfigure halted and salaamed with clawlike hands extended. His deformitybent him almost double, but he was so muffled in rags that it wasdifficult to discern any tangible human shape at all. A tangled blackbeard hung wisplike from the dirty _chuddah_ that draped his head, andabove it two eyes, fevered and furtive, peered strangely forth. 

The salaam completed, the intruder straightened himself as far as hisinfirmity would permit, and in a moment spoke in the weak accents of anold, old man. "Will his most gracious excellency be pleased to permitone who is as the dust beneath his feet to speak in his presence wordswhich only he may hear?"

It was the whine of the Hindu beggar, halting, supplicatory, almostrevoltingly servile. Stella shuddered with disgust. The whole episodewas so utterly out of place in that moonlit paradise. But Dacre'scuriosity was evidently aroused. To her urgent whisper to send the manaway he paid no heed. Some spirit of perversity--or was it the hand ofFate upon him?--made him bestow his supercilious attention upon thecringing visitor. 

"Speak away, you son of a centipede!" he made kindly rejoinder. "I amall ears--the _mem-sahib_ also. "

The man waved a skinny, protesting arm. "Only his most graciousexcellency!" he insisted, seeming to utter the words through parchedlips. "Will not his excellency deign to give his unworthy servant oneprecious moment that he may speak in the august one's ear alone?"

"This is highly mysterious, " commented Dacre. "I think I shall have tofind out what he wants, eh, Stella? His information may be valuable. "

"Oh, do send him away!" Stella entreated. "I am not used to thesenatives. They frighten me. "

"My dear child, what nonsense!" laughed Dacre. "What harm do you imaginea doddering old fool like this could do to any one? If I were Monck, Ishould invite him to join the party. Not being Monck, I propose to hearwhat he has to say and then kick him out. You run along to bed, dear!I'll soon settle him and follow you. Don't be uneasy! There is really noneed. "

He kissed her lightly with the words, flattered by her evident anxietyon his behalf though fully determined to ignore it. 

Stella turned beside him in silence, aware that he could be immovablyobstinate when once his mind was made up. But the feeling of dreadremained upon her. In some fantastic fashion the beauty of the night hadbecome marred, as though evil spirits were abroad. For the first timeshe wanted to keep her husband at her side. 

But it was useless to protest. She was moreover half-ashamed herself ather uneasiness, and his treatment of it stung her into the determinationto dismiss it. She parted with him before their tent with no furthersign of reluctance. 

He on his part kissed her in his usual voluptuous fashion. "Good-night, darling!" he said lightly. "Don't lie awake for me! When I have got ridof this old Arabian Nights sinner, I may have another smoke. But don'tget impatient! I shan't be late. "

She withdrew herself from him almost with coldness. Had she ever beenimpatient for his coming? She entered the tent proudly, her head high. But the moment she was alone, reaction came. She stood with her handsgripped together, fighting the old intolerable misgiving that even thelulling magic all around her had never succeeded in stilling. What wasshe doing in this garden of delights with a man she did not love? Hadshe not entered as it were by stealth? How long would it be before herpresence was discovered and she thrust forth into the outermost darknessin shame and bitterness of soul?

Another thought was struggling at the back of her mind, but she held itfirmly there. Never once had she suffered it to take full possession ofher. It belonged to that other life which she had found too hard toendure. Vain regrets and futile longings--she would have none of them. She had chosen her lot, she would abide by the choice. Yes, and shewould do her duty also, whatever it might entail. Ralph should neverknow, never dimly suspect. And that other--he would never know either. His had been but a passing fancy. He trod the way of ambition, and therewas no room in his life for anything besides. If she had shown him herheart, it had been but a momentary glimpse; and he had forgottenalready. She was sure he had forgotten. And she had desired that heshould forget. He had penetrated her stronghold indeed, but it was onlyas it were the outer defences that had fallen. He had not reached theinner fort. No man would ever reach that now--certainly, most certainly, not the man to whom she had given herself. And to none other would thechance be offered. 

No, she was secure; she was secure. She guarded her heart from all. Andshe could not suffer deeply--so she told herself--so long as she kept itclose. Yet, as the wonder-music of the torrent lulled her to sleep, aface she knew, dark, strong, full of silent purpose, rose before herinner vision and would not be driven forth. What was he doing to-night?Was he wandering about the bazaars in some disguise, learning thesecrets of that strange native India that had drawn him into her toils?She tried to picture that hidden life of his, but could not. The keen, steady eyes, set in that calm, emotionless face, held her persistently, defeating imagination. Of one thing only was she certain. He mightbaffle others, but by no amount of ingenuity could he ever deceive her. She would recognize him in a moment whatever his disguise. She was surethat she would know him. Those grave, unflinching eyes would surely givehim away to any who really knew him. So ran her thoughts on that nightof magic till at last sleep came, and the vision faded. The last thingshe knew was a memory that awoke and mocked her--the sound of a lowvoice that in spite of herself she had to hear. 

"I was waiting, " said the voice, "till my turn should come. "

With a sharp pang she cast the memory from her--and slept. 

CHAPTER VII

THE SERPENT IN THE GARDEN

"Now, you old sinner! Let's hear your valuable piece of information!"Carelessly Ralph Dacre sauntered forth again into the moonlight andconfronted the tatterdemalion figure of his visitor. 

The contrast between them was almost fantastic so strongly did thearrogance of the one emphasize the deep abasement of the other. Dacrewas of large build and inclined to stoutness. He had the ruddycomplexion of the English country squire. He moved with the swagger ofthe conquering race. 

The man who cringed before him, palsied, misshapen, a mere wreck ofhumanity, might have been a being from another sphere--some underworldof bizarre creatures that crawled purblind among shadows. 

He salaamed again profoundly in response to Dacre's contemptuous words, nearly rubbing his forehead upon the ground. "His most noble excellencyis pleased to be gracious, " he murmured. "If he will deign to follow hismiserably unworthy servant up the goat-path where none may overhear, hewill speak his message and depart. "

"Oh, it's a message, is it?" With a species of scornful tolerance Dacreturned towards the path indicated. "Well, lead on! I'm not comingfar--no, not for untold wealth. Nor am I going to waste much time overyou. I have better things to do. "

The old man turned also with a cringing movement. "Only a little way, most noble!" he said in his thin, cracked voice. "Only a little way!"

Hobbling painfully, he began the ascent in front of the strollingEnglishman. The path ran steeply up between close-growing shrubs, following the winding of the torrent far below. In places the hillsidewas precipitous and the roar of the stream rose louder as it dashedamong its rocks. The heavy scent of the azalea flowers hung like incenseeverywhere, mingling aromatically with the smoke from Dacre's newlylighted cigar. 

With his hands in his pockets he followed his guide with long, easystrides. The ascent was nothing to him, and the other's halting progressbrought a smile of contemptuous pity to his lips. What did the oldrascal expect to gain from the interview he wondered?

Up and up the narrow path they went, till at length a small naturalplatform in the shoulder of the hill was reached, and here the raggedcreature in front of Dacre paused and turned. 

The moonlight smote full upon him, revealing him in every repulsivedetail. His eyes burned in their red-rimmed sockets as he lifted them. But he did not speak even after the careless saunter of the Englishmanhad ceased at his side. The dash of the stream far below rose up likethe muffled roar of a train in a tunnel. The bed of it was very narrowat that point and the current swift. 

For a moment or two Dacre stood waiting, the cigar still between hislips, his eyes upon the gleaming caps of the snow-hills far away. Butvery soon the spell of them fell from him. It was not his nature toremain silent for long. 

With his easy, superior laugh he turned and looked his motionlesscompanion up and down. "Well?" he said. "Have you brought me here toadmire the view? Very fine no doubt; but I could have done it withoutyour guidance. "

There was no immediate reply to his carelessly flung query, and faintcuriosity arose within him mingling with his strong contempt. He pulleda hand out of his pocket and displayed a few _annas_ in his palm. 

"Well?" he said again. "What may this valuable piece of information beworth?"

The other made an abrupt movement; it was almost as if he curbed somesavage impulse to violence. He moved back a pace, and there in themoonlight before Dacre's insolent gaze--he changed. 

With a deep breath he straightened himself to the height of a tall man. The bent contorted limbs became lithe and strong. The cringing humilityslipped from him like a garment. He stood upright and faced RalphDacre--a man in the prime of life. 

"That, " he said, "is a matter of opinion. So far as I am concerned, ithas cost a damned uncomfortable journey. But--it will probably cost youmore than that. "

"Great--Jupiter!" said Dacre. 

He stood and stared and stared. The curt speech, the almost fiercelycontemptuous bearing, the absolute, unwavering assurance of this manwhom but a moment before he had so arrogantly trampled underfoot sentthrough him such a shock of amazement as nearly deprived him of thepower to think. Perhaps for the first time in his life he was utterlyand completely at a loss. Only as he gazed at the man before him, therecame upon him, sudden as a blow, the memory of a certain hot day morethan a year before when he and Everard Monck had wrestled together inthe Club gymnasium for the benefit of a little crowd of subalterns whohad eagerly betted upon the result. It had been sinew _versus_ weight, and after a tough struggle sinew had prevailed. He remembered theunpleasant sensation of defeat even now though he had had the grit totake it like a man and get up laughing. It was one of the very fewoccasions he could remember upon which he had been worsted. 

But now--to-night--he was face to face with something of an infinitelymore serious nature. This man with the stern, accusing eyes and whollymerciless attitude--what had he come to say? An odd sensation stirred atDacre's heart like an unsteady hand knocking for admittance. There wassomething wrong here--- something wrong. 

"You--madman!" he said at length, and with the words pulled himselftogether with a giant effort. "What in the name of wonder are you doinghere?" He had bitten his cigar through in his astonishment, and hetossed it away as he spoke with a gesture of returning confidence. Hesilenced the uneasy foreboding within and met the hard eyes thatconfronted him without discomfiture. "What's your game?" he said. "Youhave come to tell me something, I suppose. But why on earth couldn't youwrite it?"

"The written word is not always effectual, " the other man said. 

He put up a hand abruptly and stripped the ragged hair from his face, pushing back the heavy folds of the _chuddah_ that enveloped his head ashe did so. His features gleamed in the moonlight, lean and brown, unmistakably British. 

"Monck!" said Dacre, in the tone of one verifying a suspicion. 

"Yes--Monck. " Grimly the other repeated the name. "I've had considerabletrouble in following you here. I shouldn't have taken it if I hadn't hada very urgent reason. "

"Well, what the devil is it?" Dacre spoke with the exasperation of a manwho knows himself to be at a disadvantage. "If you want to know myopinion, I regard such conduct as damned intrusive at such a time. Butif you've any decent excuse let's hear it!"

He had never adopted that tone to Monck before, but he had been rudelyjolted out of his usually complacent attitude, and he resented Monck'spresence. Moreover, an unpleasant sense of inferiority had begun to makeitself felt. There was something judicial about Monck--somethinginexorable and condemnatory--something that aroused in him everyinstinct of self-defence. 

But Monck met his blustering demand with the utmost calm. It was as ifhe held him in a grip of iron intention from which no struggles, howeverdesperate, could set him free. 

He took an envelope from the folds of his ragged raiment. "I believe youhave heard me speak of my brother Bernard, " he said, "chaplain ofCharthurst Prison. "

Dacre nodded. "The fellow who writes to you every month. Well? What ofhim?"

Monck's steady fingers detached and unfolded a letter. "You had betterread for yourself, " he said, and held it out. 

But curiously Dacre hung back as if unwilling to touch it. 

"Can't you tell me what all the fuss is about?" he said irritably. 

Monck's hand remained inflexibly extended. He spoke, a jarring note inhis voice. "Oh yes, I can tell you. But you had better see for yourselftoo. It concerns you very nearly. It was written in Charthurst Prisonnearly six weeks ago, where a woman who calls herself your wife isundergoing a term of imprisonment for forgery. "

"Damnation!" Ralph Dacre actually staggered as if he had received a blowbetween the eyes. But almost in the next moment he recovered himself, and uttered a quivering laugh. "Man alive! You are not fool enough tobelieve such a cock-and-bull story as that!" he said. "And you have comeall this way in this fancy get-up to tell me! You must be mad!"

Monck was still holding out the letter. "You had better see foryourself, " he reiterated. "It is damnably circumstantial. "

"I tell you it's an infernal lie!" flung back Dacre furiously. "There isno woman on this earth who has any claim on me--except Stella. Whyshould I read it? I tell you it's nothing but damned fabrication--atissue of abominable falsehood!"

"You mean to deny that you have ever been through any form of marriagebefore?" said Monck slowly. 

"Of course I do!" Dacre uttered another angry laugh. "You must be apositive fool to imagine such a thing. It's preposterous, unheard of!Of course I have never been married before. What are you thinking of?"

Monck remained unmoved. "She has been a music-hall actress, " he said. "Her name is--or was--Madelina Belleville. Do you tell me that you havenever had any dealings whatever with her?"

Dacre laughed again fiercely, scoffingly. "You don't imagine that Iwould marry a woman of that sort, do you?" he said. 

"That is no answer to my question, " Monck said firmly. 

"Confound you!" Dacre blazed into open wrath. "Who the devil are you toenquire into my private affairs? Do you think I am going to put up withyour damned impertinence? What?"

"I think you will have to. " Monck spoke quitely, but there was deadlydetermination in his words. "It's a choice of evils, and if you are wiseyou will choose the least. Are you going to read the letter?"

Dacre stared at him for a moment or two with eyes of gloweringresentment; but in the end he put forth a hand not wholly steady andtook the sheet held out to him. Monck stood beside him in utterimmobility, gazing out over the valley with a changeless vigilance thathad about it something fateful. 

Minutes passed. Dacre seemed unable to lift his eyes from the page. Butit fluttered in his hold, though the night was still, as if a strongwind were blowing. 

Suddenly he moved, as one who violently breaks free from some fetteringspell. He uttered a bitter oath and tore the sheet of paper passionatelyto fragments. He flung them to the ground and trampled them underfoot. 

"Ten million curses on her!" he raved. "She has been the bane of mylife!"

Monck's eyes came out of the distance and surveyed him, coldly curious. "I thought so, " he said, and in his voice was an odd inflection as ofone who checks a laugh at an ill-timed jest. 

Dacre stamped again like an infuriated bull. "If I had her here--I'dstrangle her!" he swore. "That brother of yours is an artist. He hassketched her to the life--the she-devil!" His voice cracked and broke. He was breathing like a man in torture. He swayed as he stood. 

And still Monck remained passive, grim and cold and unyielding. "Howlong is it since you married her?" he questioned at last. 

"I tell you I never married her!" Desperately Dacre sought to recoverlost ground, but he had slipped too far. 

"You told me that lie before, " Monck observed in his even judicialtones. "Is it--worth while?"

Dacre glared at him, but his glare was that of the hunted animal trappedand helpless. He was conquered, and he knew it. 

Calmly Monck continued. "There is not much doubt that she holds proof ofthe marriage, and she will probably try to establish it as soon as sheis free. "

"She will never get anything more out of me, " said Dacre. His voice waslow and sullen. There was that in the other man's attitude that stilledhis fury, rendering it futile, even in a fashion ridiculous. 

"I am not thinking of you. " Monck's coldness had in it something brutal. "You are not the only person concerned. But the fact remains--this womanis your wife. You may as well tell the truth about it as not--since Iknow. "

Dacre jerked his head like an angry bull, but he submitted. "Oh well, ifyou must have it, I suppose she was--once, " he said. "She caught me whenI was a kid of twenty-one. She was a bad 'un even then, and it didn'ttake me long to find it out. I could have divorced her several timesover, only the marriage was a secret and I didn't want my people toknow. The last I heard of her was that her name was among the drowned ona wrecked liner going to America. That was six years ago or more; and Iwas thankful to be rid of her. I regarded her death as one of thebiggest slices of luck I'd ever had. And now--curse her!"--he endedsavagely--"she has come to life again!"

He glanced at Monck with the words, almost as if seeking sympathy; butMonck's face was masklike in its unresponsiveness. He said nothingwhatever. 

In a moment Dacre took up the tale. "I've considered myself free eversince we separated, after only six weeks together. Any man would. It wasnothing but a passing fancy. Heaven knows why I was fool enough to marryher, except that I had high-flown ideas of honour in those days, and Igot drawn in. She never regarded it as binding, so why in thunder shouldI?" He spoke indignantly, as one who had the right of complaint. 

"Your ideas of honour having altered somewhat, " observed Monck, withbitter cynicism. 

Dacre winced a little. "I don't profess to be anything extraordinary, "he said. "But I maintain that marriage gives no woman the right to wrecka man's life. She has no more claim upon me now than the man in themoon. If she tries to assert it, she will soon find her mistake. " He wasbeginning to recover his balance, and there was even a hint of hiscustomary complacence audible in his voice as he made the declaration. "But there is no reason to believe she will, " he added. "She knows verywell that she has nothing whatever to gain by it. Your brother seems tohave gathered but a vague idea of the affair. You had better write andtell him that the Dacre he means is dead. Your brother-officer belongsto another branch of the family. That ought to satisfy everybody and nogreat harm done, what?"

He uttered the last word with a tentative, disarming smile. He was notquite sure of his man, but it seemed to him that even Monck must seethe utter futility of making a disturbance about the affair at thisstage. Matters had gone so far that silence was the only course--silenceon his part, a judicious lie or two on the part of Monck. He did not seehow the latter could refuse to render him so small a service. As hehimself had remarked but a few moments before, he, Dacre, was not theonly person concerned. 

But the absolute and uncompromising silence with which his easysuggestion was received was disquieting. He hastened to break it, divining that the longer it lasted the less was it likely to end in hisfavour. 

"Come, I say!" he urged on a friendly note. "You can't refuse to do thismuch for a comrade in a tight corner! I'd do the same for you and more. And remember, it isn't my happiness alone that hangs in the balance!We've got to think of--Stella!"

Monck moved at that, moved sharply, almost with violence. Yet, when hespoke, his voice was still deliberate, cuttingly distinct. "Yes, " hesaid. "And her honour is worth about as much to you, apparently, as yourown! I am thinking of her--and of her only. And, so far as I can see, there is only one thing to be done. "

"Oh, indeed!" Dacre's air of half-humorous persuasion dissolved intoinsolence. "And I am to do it, am I? Your humble servant to command!"

Monck stretched forth a sinewy arm and slowly closed his fist under theother man's eyes. "You will do it--yes, " he said. "I hold you--likethat. "

Dacre flinched slightly in spite of himself. "What do you mean? Youwould never be such a--such a cur--as to give me away?"

Monck made a sound that was too full of bitterness to be termed a laugh. "You're such an infernal blackguard, " he said, "that I don't care a damnwhether you go to the devil or not. The only thing that concerns me ishow to protect a woman's honour that you have dared to jeopardize, howto save her from open shame. It won't be an easy matter, but it can bedone, and it shall be done. Now listen!" His voice rang suddenly hard, almost metallic. "If this thing is to be kept from her--as it mustbe--as it shall be--you must drop out--vanish. So far as she isconcerned you must die to-night. "

"I?" Dacre stared at him in startled incredulity. "Man, are you mad?"

"I am not. " Keen as bared steel came the answer. Monck's impassivity wasgone. His face was darkly passionate, his whole bearing that of a manrelentlessly set upon obtaining the mastery. "But if you imagine hersafety can be secured without a sacrifice, you are wrong. Do you think Iam going to stand tamely by and see an innocent woman dragged down toyour beastly level? What do you suppose her point of view would be? Howwould she treat the situation if she ever came to know? I believe shewould kill herself. "

"But she never need know! She never shall know!" There was a note ofdesperation in Dacre's rejoinder. "You have only got to hush it up, andit will die a natural death. That she-devil will never take the troubleto follow me out here. Why should she? She knows very well that she hasno claim whatever upon me. Stella is the only woman who has any claimupon me now. "

"You are right. " Grimly Monck took him up. "And her claim is the claimof an honourable woman to honourable treatment. And so far as lies inyour power and mine, she shall have it. That is why you will do thisthing--disappear to-night, go out of her life for good, and let herthink you dead. I will undertake then that the truth shall never reachher. She will be safe. But there can be no middle course. She shall notbe exposed to the damnable risk of finding herself stranded. "

He ceased to speak, and in the moonlight their eyes met as the eyes ofmen who grip together in a death-struggle. 

The silence between them was more terrible than words. It heldunutterable things. 

Dacre spoke at last, his voice low and hoarse. "I can't do it. There istoo much involved. Besides, it wouldn't really help. She would come toknow inevitably. "

"She will never know. " Inexorably came the answer, spoken with pitilessinsistence. "As to ways and means, I have provided for them. It won't bedifficult in this wilderness to cover your tracks. When the news hasgone forth that you are dead, no one will look for you. "

A hard shiver went through Dacre. His hands clenched. He was as a man inthe presence of his executioner. The paralysing spell was upon himagain, constricting as a rope about his neck. But sacrifice was no partof his nature. With despair at his heart, he yet made a desperate bidfor freedom. 

"The whole business is outrageous!" he said. "It is out of the question. I refuse to do it. Matters have gone too far. To all intents andpurposes, Stella is my wife, and I'm damned if any one shall comebetween us. You may do your worst! I refuse. "

Defiance was his only weapon, and he hurled it with all his strength;but the moment he had done so, he realized the hopelessness of theventure. Monck made a single, swift movement, and in a moment themoonlight glinted upon the polished muzzle of a Service revolver. Hespoke, briefly, with iron coldness. 

"The choice is yours. Only--if you refuse to give her--the sanctuary ofwidowhood--I will! After all it would be the safest way for allconcerned. "

Dacre went back a pace. "Going to murder me, what?" he said. 

Monck's teeth gleamed in a terrible smile. "You need not--refuse, " hesaid. 

"True!" Dacre was looking him full in the eyes with more of curiositythan apprehension. "And--as you have foreseen--I shall not refuse underthose circumstances. It would have saved time if you had put it in thatlight before. "

"It would. But I hoped you might have the decency to actwithout--persuasion. " Monck was speaking between his teeth, but therevolver was concealed again in the folds of his garment. "You willleave to-night--at once--without seeing her again. That is understood. "

It was the end of the conflict. Dacre attempted no further resistance. He was not the man to waste himself upon a cause that he realized to behopeless. Moreover, there was about Monck at that moment a force thatrestrained him, compelled instinctive respect. Though he hated the manfor his mastery, he could not despise him. For he knew that what he haddone had been done through a rigid sense of honour and that chivalrywhich goes hand in hand with honour--the chivalry with which no womanwould have credited him. 

That Monck had nought but the most disinterested regard for any woman, he firmly believed, and probably that conviction gave added strength tohis position. That he should fight thus for a mere principle, thoughincomprehensible in Dacre's opinion, was a circumstance that carriedinfinitely more weight than more personal championship. Monck was theone man of his acquaintance who had never displayed the smallest desireto compete for any woman's favour, who had never indeed shown himself tobe drawn by any feminine attractions, and his sudden assumption ofauthority was therefore unassailable. In yielding to the greater power, Dacre yielded to a moral force rather than to human compulsion. Andthough driven sorely against his will, he respected the power thatdrove. His dumb gesture of acquiescence conveyed as much as he turnedaway relinquishing the struggle. 

He had fought hard, and he had been defeated. It was bitter enough, butafter all he had had his turn. The first hot rapture was alreadypassing. Love in the wilderness could not last for ever. It had beenfierce enough--too fierce to endure. And characteristically he reflectedthat Stella's cold beauty would not have held him for long. He preferredsomething more ardent, more living. Moreover, his nature demanded acertain meed of homage from the object of his desire, and undeniablythis had been conspicuously lacking. Stella was evidently one to acceptrather than to give, and there had been moments when this had slightlygalled him. She seemed to him fundamentally incapable of any deepfeeling, and though this had not begun to affect their relations atpresent, he had realized in a vague fashion that because of it she wouldnot hold him for ever. So, after the first, he knew that he would findconsolation. Certainly he would not break his heart for her or for anywoman, nor did he flatter himself that she would break hers for him. 

Meantime--he prepared to shrug his shoulders over the inevitable. Thingsmight have been much worse. And perhaps on the whole it was safer toobey Monck's command and go. An open scandal would really be a good dealworse for him than for Stella, who had little to lose, and there was noknowing what might happen if he took the risk and remained. Emphaticallyhe had no desire to face a personal reckoning at some future date withthe she-devil who had been the bane of his existence. It was an unlikelycontingency but undoubtedly it existed, and he hated unpleasantness ofall kinds. So, philosophically, he resolved to adjust himself to thisburden. There was something of the adventurer in his blood and he had avast belief in his own ultimate good luck. Fortune might frown forawhile, but he knew that he was Fortune's favourite notwithstanding. Andvery soon she would smile again. 

But for Monck he had only the bitter hate of the conquered. He cast amalevolent look upon him with eyes that were oddly narrowed--ameasuring, speculative look that comprehended his strength andregistered the infallibility thereof with loathing. "I wonder whathappened to the serpent, " he said, "when the man and woman were thrustout of the garden. "

Monck had readjusted his disguise. He looked back with baffling, inscrutable eyes, his dark face masklike in its impenetrability. But hespoke no word in answer. He had said his say. Like a mantle he gatheredhis reserve about him again, as a man resuming a solitary journeythrough the desert which all his life he had travelled alone. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE FORBIDDEN PARADISE

Looking back later upon that fateful night, it seemed to Stella that shemust indeed have slept the sleep of the lotus-eater, for no misgivingspierced the numb unconsciousness that held her through the still hours. She lay as one in a trance, wholly insensible of the fact that she wasalone, aware only of the perpetual rush and fall of the torrent below, which seemed to act like a narcotic upon her brain. 

When she awoke at length broad daylight was all about her, and above theroar of the stream there was rising a hubbub of voices like the buzzingof a swarm of bees. She lay for awhile listening to it, lazily wonderingwhy the coolies should bring their breakfast so much nearer to the tentthan usually, and then, suddenly and terribly, there came a cry thatseemed to transfix her, stabbing her heavy senses to full consciousness. 

For a second or two she lay as if petrified, every limb struckpowerless, every nerve strained to listen. Who had uttered that dreadfulwail? What did it portend? Then, her strength returning, she startedup, and knew that she was alone. The camp-bed by her side was empty. Ithad not been touched. Fear, nameless and chill, swept through her. Shefelt her very heart turn cold. 

Shivering, she seized a wrap, and crept to the tent-entrance. The flapwas unfastened, just as it had been left by her husband the nightbefore. With shaking fingers she drew it aside and looked forth. 

The hubbub of voices had died down to awed whisperings. A group ofcoolies huddled in the open space before her like an assembly of monkeysholding an important discussion. 

Further away, with distorted limbs and grim, impassive countenance, crouched the black-bearded beggar whose importunity had lured Ralph fromher side the previous evening. His red-rimmed, sunken eyes gazed likethe eyes of a dead man straight into the sunrise. So motionless werethey, so utterly void of expression, that she thought they must beblind. There was something fateful, something terrible in the aloofnessof him. It was as if an invisible circle surrounded him within whichnone might intrude. 

And close at hand--so close that she could have touched his turbanedhead as she stood--the great Sikh bearer, Peter, sat huddled in a heapon the soft green earth and rocked himself to and fro like a child introuble. She knew at the first glance that it was he who had utteredthat anguished wail. 

To him she turned, as to the only being she could trust in that strangescene. 

"Peter, " she said, "what has happened? What is wrong? Where--where isthe captain _sahib_?"

He gave a great start at the sound of her voice above him, andinstantly, with a rapid noiseless movement, arose and bent himselfbefore her. 

"The _mem-sahib_ will pardon her servant, " he said, and she saw that hisdark face was twisted with emotion. "But there is bad news for herto-day. The captain _sahib_ has gone. "

"Gone!" Stella echoed the word uncomprehendingly, as one who speaks anunknown language. 

Peter's look fell before the wide questioning of hers. He replied almostunder his breath: "_Mem-sahib_, it was in the still hour of the night. The captain _sahib_ slept on the mountain, and in his sleep he fell--andwas taken away by the stream. "

"Taken away!" Again, numbly, Stella repeated his words. She feltsuddenly very weak and sick. 

Peter stretched a hand towards the inscrutable stranger. "This man, _mem-sahib_, " he said with reverence, "he is a holy man, and whilepraying upon the mountain top, he saw the _sahib_, sunk in a deep sleep, fall forward over the rock as if a hand had touched him. He came downand searched for him, _mem-sahib_; but he was gone. The snows aremelting, and the water runs swift and deep. "

"Ah!" It was a gasp rather than an exclamation. Stella was blindlytottering against the tent-rope, clutching vaguely for support. 

The great Sikh caught her ere she fell, his own distress subdued in aflash before the urgency of her need. "Lean on me, _mem-sahib!_" hesaid, deference and devotion mingling in his voice. 

She accepted his help instinctively, scarcely knowing what she did, andvery gently, with a woman's tenderness, he led her back into the tent. 

"My _mem-sahib_ must rest, " he said. "And I will find a woman to serveher. "

She opened her eyes with a dizzy sense of wonder. Peter had never failedbefore to procure anything that she wanted, but even in her extremityshe had a curiously irrelevant moment of conjecture as to where he wouldturn in the wilderness for the commodity he so confidently mentioned. 

Then, the anguish returning, she checked his motion to depart. "No, no, Peter, " she said, commanding her voice with difficulty. "There is noneed for that. I am quite all right. But--but--tell me more! How didthis happen? Why did he sleep on the mountain?"

"How should the _mem-sahib's_ servant know?" questioned Peter, gentlyand deferentially, as one who reasoned with a child. "It may be that theopium of his cigar was stronger than usual. But how can I tell?"

"Opium! He never smoked opium!" Stella gazed upon him in freshbewilderment. "Surely--surely not!" she said, as though seeking toconvince herself. 

"_Mem-sahib_, how should I know?" the Indian murmured soothingly. 

She became suddenly aware that further inaction was unendurable. Shemust see for herself. She must know the whole, dreadful truth. Thoughtrembling from head to foot, she spoke with decision. "Peter, go outsideand wait for me! Keep that old beggar too! Don't let him go! As soon asI am dressed, we will go to--the place--and--look for him. "

She stumbled over the last words, but she spoke them bravely. Peterstraightened himself, recognizing the voice of authority. With a deepsalaam, he turned and passed out, drawing the tent-flap decorously intoplace behind him. 

And then with fevered energy, Stella dressed. Her hands moved withlightning speed though her body felt curiously weighted and unnatural. The fantastic thought crossed her brain that it was as though sheprepared herself for her own funeral. 

No sound reached her from without, save only the monotonous and endlessdashing of the torrent among its boulders. She was beginning to feelthat the sound in some fashion expressed a curse. 

When she was ready at length, she stood for a second or two to gatherher strength. She still felt ill and dizzy, as though the world she knewhad suddenly fallen away from her and left her struggling inunimaginable space, like a swimmer in deep waters. But she conquered herweakness, and, drawing aside the tent-flap once more, she stepped forth. 

The morning sun struck full upon her. It was as if the whole earthrushed to meet her in a riot of rejoicing; but she was in some fashionoutside and beyond it all. The glow could not reach her. 

With a sharp sense of revulsion, she saw the deformed man squattingclose to her, his _chuddah_-draped head lodged upon his knees. He didnot stir at her coming though she felt convinced that he was aware ofher, aware probably of everything that passed within a considerableradius of his disreputable person. His dark face, lined and dirty, half-covered with ragged black hair that ended in a long thin wisp likea goat's beard on his shrunken chest, was still turned to the east asthough challenging the sun that was smiting a swift course through theheavens as if with a flaming sword. The simile rushed through her mindunbidden. Where would she be--what would have happened to her--by thetime that sword was sheathed?

She conquered her repulsion and approached the man. As she did so, Peterglided silently up like a faithful watch-dog and took his place at herright hand. It was typical of the position he was to occupy in the daysthat were coming. 

Within a pace or two of the huddled figure, Stella stopped. He had notmoved. It was evident that he was so rapt in meditation that herpresence at that moment was no more to him than that of an insectcrawling across his path. His eyes, red-rimmed, startlingly bright, still challenged the coming day. His whole expression was so grimlyaloof, so sternly unsympathetic, that she hesitated to disturb him. 

Humbly Peter came to her assistance. "May I be allowed to speak to him, _mem-sahib?_" he asked. 

She turned to him thankfully. "Yes, tell him what I want!"

Peter placed himself in front of the stranger. "The noble lady desiresyour service, " he said. "Her gracious excellency is waiting. "

A quiver went through the crouching form. He seemed to awake, his mindreturning as it were from a far distance. He turned his head, and Stellasaw that he was not blind. For his eyes took her in, for the momentappraised her. Then with ungainly, tortoiselike movements, he arose. 

"I am her excellency's servant, " he said, in hollow, quavering accents. "I live or die at her most gracious command. "

It was abjectly spoken, yet she shuddered at the sound of his voice. Herwhole being revolted against holding any converse with the man. But sheforced herself to persist. Only this monstrous, half-bestial creaturecould give her any detail of the awful thing that had happened in thenight. If Ralph were indeed dead, this man was the last who had seenhim in life. 

With a strong effort she subdued her repugnance and addressed him. "Iwant, " she said, "to be guided to the place from which you say he fell. I must see for myself. "

He bent himself almost to the earth before her. "Let the gracious ladyfollow her servant!" he said, and forthwith straightened himself andhobbled away. 

She followed him in utter silence, Peter walking at her right hand. Upthe steep goat-path which Dacre had so arrogantly ascended in the wakeof his halting guide they made their slow progress in dumb procession. Stella moved as one rapt in some terrible dream. Again that druggedfeeling was upon her, that sense of being bound by a spell, and now sheknew that the spell was evil. Once or twice her brain stirred a littlewhen Peter offered his silent help, and she thanked him and accepted itwhile scarcely realizing what she did. But for the most part sheremained in that state of awful quiescence, the inertia of one aboutwhom the toils of a pitiless Fate were closely woven. There was noescape for her. She knew that there could be no escape. She had beencaught trespassing in a forbidden paradise, and she was about to bethrust forth without mercy. 

High up on a shelf of naked rock their guide stood and waited--a ragged, incongruous figure against the purity of the new day. The early sun hadbarely topped the highest mountains, but a great gap between two mightypeaks revealed it. As Stella pressed forward, she came suddenly into thesplendour of the morning. 

It affected her strangely. She felt as Moses must have felt when theGlory of God was revealed to him. The brightness was intolerable. Itseemed to pierce her through and through. She was not able to look uponit. 

"Excellency, " the stranger said, "it was here. "

She moved forward and stood beside him. Quiveringly, in a voice shehardly recognized as her own, she spoke. "You were with him. You broughthim here. "

He made a gesture as of one who repudiates responsibility. "I, excellency, I am the servant of the Holy Ones, " he said. "I had amessage for him. I knew that the Holy Ones were angry. It was writtenthat the white _sahib_ should not tread the sacred ground. I warned him, excellency, and then I left him. And now the Holy Ones have worked theirwill upon him, and lo, he is gone. "

Stella gazed at the man with fascinated eyes. The confidence with whichhe spoke somehow left no room for question. 

"He is mad, " she murmured, half to herself and half to Peter. "Of coursehe is mad. "

And then, as if a hand had touched her also, she moved forward to theedge of the precipice and looked down. 

The rush of the torrent rose up like the tumult of many voices callingto her, calling to her. The depth beneath her feet widened to an abyssthat yawned to engulf her. With a sick sense of horror she realized thatghastly, headlong fall--from warm, throbbing life on the enchantedheight to instant and terrible destruction upon the green, slimyboulders over which the water dashed and roared continuously far below. Here he had sat, that arrogant lover of hers, and slipped from somnolentenjoyment into that dreadful gulf. At her feet--proof indisputable ofthe truth of the story she had been told--lay a charred fragment of thecigar that had doubtless been between his lips when he had sunk intothat fatal sleep. The memory of Peter's words flashed through her brain. He had smoked opium. She wondered if Peter really knew. But of whatavail now to conjecture? He was gone, and only this mad native vagabondhad witnessed his going. 

And at that, another thought pierced her keen as a dagger, rending itsway through living tissues. The manner of the man's appearing, thehorror with which he had inspired her, the mystery of him, all combinedto drive it home to her heart. What if a hand had indeed touched him?What if a treacherous blow had hurled him over that terrible edge?

She turned to look again upon the stranger, but he had withdrawnhimself. She saw only the Indian servant, standing close beside her, hisdark eyes following her every action with wistful vigilance. 

Meeting her desperate gaze, he pressed a little nearer, like a faithfuldog, protective and devoted. "Come away, my _mem-sahib!_" he entreatedvery earnestly. "It is the Gate of Death. "

That pierced her anew. Her desolation came upon her in an overwhelmingwave. She turned with a great cry, and threw her arms wide to the risensun, tottering blindly towards the emptiness that stretched beneath herfeet. And as she went, she heard the roar of the torrent dashing downover its grim boulders to the great river up which they two had glidedin their dream of enchantment aeons and aeons before.... 

She knew nothing of the sinewy arms that held her back from death thoughshe fought them fiercely, desperately. She did not hear the piteousentreaties of poor harassed Peter as he forced her back, back, back, from those awful depths. She only knew a great turmoil that seemed toher unending--a fearful striving against ever-increasing odds--and atthe last a swirling, unfathomable darkness descending like a wind-blownblanket upon her--enveloping her, annihilating her.... 

And British eyes, keen and grey and stern, looked on from afar, watchingsilently, as the Indian bore his senseless _mem-sahib_ away. 

PART II

CHAPTER I

THE MINISTERING ANGEL

"And what am I going to do?" demanded Mrs. Ermsted fretfully. She waslounging in the easiest chair in Mrs. Ralston's drawing-room with acigarette between her fingers. A very decided frown was drawing herdelicate brows. "I had no idea you could be so fickle, " she said. 

"My dear, I shall welcome you here just as heartily as I ever have, "Mrs. Ralston assured her, without lifting her eyes from the muslin frockat which she was busily stitching. 

Mrs. Ermsted pouted. "That may be. But I shan't come very often when sheis here. I don't like widows. They are either so melancholy that theygive you the hump or so self-important that you want to slap them. Inever did fancy this girl, as you know. Much too haughty and superior. "

"You never knew her, dear, " said Mrs. Ralston. 

Mrs. Ermsted's laugh had a touch of venom. "As I have tried more thanonce to make you realize, " she said, "there are at least two points ofview to everybody. You, dear Mrs. Ralston, always wear rose-colouredspectacles, with the unfortunate result that your opinion is sounvaryingly favourable that nobody values it. "

Mrs. Ralston's faded face flushed faintly. She worked on in silence. 

For a space Netta Ermsted smoked her cigarette with her eyes fixed uponspace; then very suddenly she spoke again. "I wonder if Ralph Dacrecommitted suicide. "

Mrs. Ralston started at the abrupt surmise. She looked up for the firsttime. "Really, my dear! What an extraordinary thing to say!"

Little Mrs. Ermsted jerked up her chin aggressively. "Why extraordinary, I wonder? Nothing could be more extraordinary than his death. Either hejumped over the precipice or she pushed him over when he wasn't looking. I wonder which. "

But at that Mrs. Ralston gravely arose and rebuked her. She neversuffered any nervous qualms when dealing with this volatile friend ofhers. "It is more than foolish, " she said with decision; "it is wicked, to talk like that. I will not sit and listen to you. You have a verymischievous brain, Netta. You ought to keep it under better control. "

Mrs. Ermsted stretched out her dainty feet in front of her and made agrimace. "When you call me Netta, I always know it is getting serious, "she remarked. "I withdraw it all, my dear angel, with the utmostliberality. You shall see how generous I can be to my supplanter. But dolike a good soul finish those tiresome tucks before you begin to bereally cross with me! Poor little Tessa really needs that frock, and_ayah_ is such a shocking worker. I shan't be able to turn to you foranything when the estimable Mrs. Dacre is here. In fact I shall bedriven to Mrs. Burton for companionship and counsel, and shall becomemore catty than ever. "

"My dear, please"--Mrs. Ralston spoke very earnestly--"do not imaginefor an instant that having that poor girl to care for will make thesmallest difference to my friendship for you! I hope to see as much ofyou and little Tessa as I have ever seen. I feel that Stella would befond of children. Your little one would be a comfort to any sore heart. "

"She can be a positive little devil, " observed Tessa's motherdispassionately. "But it's better than being a saint, isn't it? Look atthat hateful child, Cedric Burton--detestable little ape! That Burtoncomplacency gets on my nerves, especially in a child. But then look atthe Burtons! How could they help having horrible little self-opinionatedapes for children?"

"My dear, your tongue--your tongue!" protested Mrs. Ralston. 

Mrs. Ermsted shot it out and in again with an impudent smile. "Well, what's the matter with it? It's quite a candid one--like your own. Alittle more pointed perhaps and something venomous upon occasion. But ithas its good qualities also. At least it is never insincere. "

"Of that I am sure. " Mrs. Ralston spoke with ready kindliness. "But, oh, my dear, if it were only a little more charitable!"

Netta Ermsted smiled at her like a wayward child. "I like saying nastythings about people, " she said. "It amuses me. Besides, they're nearlyalways true. Do tell me what you think of that latest hat erection ofLady Harriet's! I never saw her look more aristocratically hideous in mylife than she looked at the Rajah's garden-party yesterday. I felt quitesorry for the Rajah, for he's a nice boy notwithstanding his fortywives, and he likes pretty things. " She gave a little laugh, andstretched her white arms up, clasping her hands behind her head. "I havepromised to ride with him in the early mornings now and then. Won'tdarling Dick be jealous when he knows?"

Mrs. Ralston uttered a sigh. There were times when all her attempts toreform this giddy little butterfly seemed unavailing. Nevertheless, being sound of principle and unfailingly conscientious, she made agallant effort. "Do you think you ought to do that, dear? I always thinkthat we ought to live more circumspectly here at Bhulwana than down atKurrumpore. And--if I may be allowed to say so--your husband is such agood, kind man, so indulgent, it seems unfair to take advantage of it. "

"Oh, is he?" laughed Netta. "How ill you know my doughty Richard! Why, it's half the fun in life to make him mad. He nearly turned me over hisknee and spanked me the last time. "

"My dear, I wish he had!" said Mrs. Ralston, with downright fervour. "Itwould do you good. "

"Think so?" Netta flicked the ash from her cigarette with a disdainfulgesture. "It all depends. I should either worship him or loath himafterwards. I wonder which. Poor old Richard! It's silly of him to stayin love with the same person always, isn't it? I couldn't be somonotonous if I tried. "

"In fact if he cared less about you, you would think more of him, "remarked Mrs. Ralston, with a quite unusual touch of severity. 

Netta Ermsted laughed again, her light, heartless laugh. "How crushinglyabsolute! But it is the literal truth. I certainly should. He's cheapnow, poor old boy. That's why I lead him such a dog's life. A man shouldnever be cheap to his wife. Now look at your husband! Indifferencepersonified! And you have never given him an hour's anxiety in hislife. "

Mrs. Ralston's pale blue eyes suddenly shone. She looked almost youngagain. "We understand each other, " she said simply. 

A mocking smile played about Mrs. Ermsted's lips, but she said nothingfor the moment. In her own fashion she was fond of the surgeon's wife, and she would not openly deride her, dear good soul. 

"When you've quite finished that, " she remarked presently, "there's atussore frock of my own I want to consult you about. There's one thingabout Stella; she won't be wanting many clothes, so I shall be able toretain your undivided attention in that respect. I really don't knowwhat Tessa and I would do without you. The tiresome little thing isalways tearing her clothes to pieces. "

Mrs. Ralston smiled, a soft mother-smile. "You're a lucky, lucky girl, "she said, "though you don't realize it, and probably never will. Whenare you going to bring the little monkey to see me again?"

"She will probably come herself when the mood takes her, " carelesslyMrs. Ermsted made reply. "I assure you, you stand very high on hervisiting list. But I hardly ever take her anywhere. She is always sonaughty with me. " She chose another cigarette with the words. "She issure to be a pretty frequent visitor while Tommy Denvers is here. Sheworships him. "

"He is a nice boy, " observed Mrs. Ralston. "I wish he could have gotlonger leave. It would have comforted Stella to have him. "

"I suppose she can go down to him at Kurrumpore if she doesn't mindsacrificing that rose-leaf complexion, " rejoined Mrs. Ermsted, shuttingher matchbox with a spiteful click. "You stayed down last hot weather. "

"Gerald was not well and couldn't leave his post, " said Mrs. Ralston. "That was different. I felt he needed me. "

"And so you nearly killed yourself to satisfy the need, " commented Mrs. Ermsted. "I sometimes think you are rather a fine woman, notwithstandingappearances. " She glanced at the watch on her wrist. "By Jove, how lateit is! Your latest _protégée_ will be here immediately. You must havebeen aching to tell me to go for the last half-hour. You silly saint!Why didn't you?"

"I have no wish for you to go, dear, " responded Mrs. Ralston tranquilly. "All my visitors are an honour to my house. "

Mrs. Ermsted sprang to her feet with a swift, elastic movement. "Mary, Ilove you!" she said. "You are a ministering angel, faithful friend, andpriceless counsellor, all combined. I laugh at you for a frump behindyour back, but when I am with you, I am spellbound with admiration. Youare really superb. "

"Thank you, dear, " said Mrs. Ralston. 

She returned the impulsive kiss bestowed upon her with a funny look inher blue eyes that might almost have been compassionate if it had notbeen so unmistakably humorous. She did not attempt to make the embrace alingering one, however, and Netta Ermsted took her impetuous departurewith a piqued sense of uncertainty. 

"I wonder if she really has got any brains after all, " she said aloud, as she sped away in her "rickshaw. " "She is a quaint creature anyhow. Irather wonder that I bother myself with her. "

At which juncture she met the Rajah, resplendent in green _puggarree_and riding his favourite bay Arab, and forthwith dismissed Mrs. Ralstonand all discreet counsels to the limbo of forgotten things. She haddubbed the Rajah her Arabian Knight. His name for her was of toointimate an order to be pronounced in public. She was the Lemon-scentedLily of his dreams. 

CHAPTER II

THE RETURN

Stella's first impression of Bhulwana was the extremely Europeanatmosphere that pervaded it. Bungalows and pine-woods seemed to be itsmain characteristics, and there was about it none of the languorousEastern charm that had so haunted the forbidden paradise. Bhulwana was acheerful place, and though perched fairly high among the hills ofMarkestan it was possible to get very hot there. For this reason perhapsall the energies of its visitors were directed towards the organizing ofgaieties, and in the height of the summer it was very gay indeed. 

The Rajah's summer palace, white and magnificent, occupied the brow ofthe hill, and the bungalows that clustered among the pines below itlooked as if there had been some competition among them as to whichcould get the nearest. 

The Ralstons' bungalow was considerably lower down the hill. It stoodupon more open ground than most, and overlooked the race-course somedistance below. It was an ugly little place, and the small compoundsurrounding it was a veritable wilderness. It had been named "The GrandStand" owing to its position, but no one less racy than its presentoccupant could well have been found. Mrs. Ralston's wistful blue eyesseldom rested upon the race-course. They looked beyond to themist-veiled plains. 

The room she had prepared for Stella's reception looked in an easterlydirection towards the winding, wooded road that led up to the Rajah'sresidence. Great care had been expended upon it. Her heart had yearnedto the girl ever since she had heard of her sudden bereavement, and herdelight at the thought of receiving her was only second to her sorrowupon Stella's account. 

Higher up the hill stood the dainty bungalow which Ralph Dacre had takenfor his bride. The thought of it tore Mrs. Ralston's tender heart. Shehad written an urgent epistle to Tommy imploring him not to let hissister go there in her desolation. And, swayed by Tommy's influence, and, it might be, touched by Mrs. Ralston's own earnest solicitude, Stella, not caring greatly whither she went, had agreed to take up herabode for a time at least with the surgeon's wife. There was nonecessity to make any sudden decision. The whole of her life lay beforeher, a dreary waste of desert. It did not seem to matter at that stagewhere she spent those first forlorn months. She was tired to the soul ofher, and only wanted to rest. 

She hoped vaguely that Mrs. Ralston would have the tact to respect thiswish of hers. Her impression of this the only woman who had shown herany kindness since her arrival in India was not of a very definiteorder. Mrs. Ralston with her faded prettiness and gentle, retiring waysdid not possess a very arresting personality. No one seeing her two orthree times could have given any very accurate description of her. LadyHarriet had more than once described her as a negligible quantity. ButLady Harriet systematically neglected everyone who had no pretensions tosmartness. She detested all dowdy women. 

But Stella still remembered with gratitude the warmth of affectionateadmiration and sympathy that had melted her coldness on her wedding-day, and something within her, notwithstanding her utter weariness, longed tofeel that warmth again. Though she scarcely realized it, she wanted theclasp of motherly arms, shielding her from the tempest of life. 

Tommy, who had met her at Rawal Pindi on the dreadful return journey, had watched over her and cared for her comfort with the utmosttenderness; but Tommy, like Peter, was somehow outside her confidence. He was just a blundering male with the best intentions. She could nothave opened her heart to him had she tried. She was unspeakably glad tohave him with her, and later on she hoped to join him again at The GreenBungalow down at Kurrumpore where they had dwelt together during theweeks preceding her marriage. For Tommy was the only relative she hadin the world who cared for her. And she was very fond of Tommy, but shewas not really intimate with him. They were just good comrades. 

As a married woman, she no longer feared the veiled shafts of malicethat had pierced her before. Her position was assured. Not that shewould have cared greatly in any case. Such trivial things belonged tothe past, and she marvelled now at the thought that they had everseriously affected her. She was changed, greatly changed. In one shortmonth she had left her girlhood behind her. Her proud shyness hadutterly departed. She had returned a grave, reserved woman, indifferent, almost apathetic, wholly self-contained. Her natural stateliness stillclung about her, but she did not cloak herself therewith. She walkedrather as one rapt in reverie, looking neither to the right nor to theleft. 

Mrs. Ralston nearly wept when she saw her, so shocked was she by thehavoc that strange month had wrought. All the soft glow of youth hadutterly passed away. White and cold as alabaster, a woman empty andalone, she returned from the forbidden paradise, and it seemed to Mrs. Ralston at first that the very heart of her had been shattered like abeautiful flower by the closing of the gates. 

But later, when Stella had been with her for a few hours, she realizedthat life still throbbed deep down below the surface, though, perhapsin self-defence, it was buried deep, very far from the reach of allcasual investigation. She could not speak of her tragedy, but sheresponded to the mute sympathy Mrs. Ralston poured out to her with agratitude that was wholly unfeigned, and the latter understood clearlythat she would not refuse her admittance though she barred out all theworld beside. 

She was deeply touched by the discovery, reflecting in her humility thatStella's need must indeed have been great to have drawn her to herselffor comfort. It was true that nearly all her friends had been made introuble which she had sought to alleviate, but Mary Ralston was toolowly to ascribe to herself any virtue on that account. She only thankedGod for her opportunities. 

On the night of their arrival, when Stella had gone to her room, Tommyspoke very seriously of his sister's state and begged Mrs. Ralston to doher utmost to combat the apathy which he had found himself wholly unableto pierce. 

"I haven't seen her shed a single tear, " he said. "People who didn'tknow would think her heartless. I can't bear to see that deadlycoldness. It isn't Stella. "

"We must be patient, " Mrs. Ralston said. 

There were tears in the boy's own eyes for which she liked him, but shedid not encourage him to further confidence. It was not her way todiscuss any friend with a third person, however intimate. 

Tommy left the subject without realizing that she had turned him fromit. 

"I don't know in the least how she is left, " he said restlessly. "Haven't an idea what sort of state Dacre's affairs were in. I ought tohave asked him, but I never had the chance; and everything was done insuch a mighty hurry. I don't suppose he had much to leave if anything. It was a fool marriage, " he ended bitterly. "I always hated it. Monckknew that. "

"Doesn't Captain Monck know anything?" asked Mrs. Ralston. 

"Oh, goodness knows. Monck's away on urgent business, been away for everso long now. I haven't seen him since Dacre's death. I daresay hedoesn't even know of that yet. He had to go Home. I suppose he is on hisway back again now; I hope so anyway. It's pretty beastly without him. "

"Poor Tommy!" Mrs. Ralston's sympathy was uppermost again. "It's been atragic business altogether. But let us be thankful we have dear Stellasafely back! I am going to say good night to her now. Help yourself toanything you want!"

She went, and Tommy stretched himself out on a long chair with a sigh ofdiscontent over things in general. He had had no word from Monckthroughout his absence, and this was almost the greatest grievance ofall. 

Treading softly the passage that led to Stella's door, Mrs. Ralstonnearly stumbled over a crouching, white-clad figure that rose up swiftlyand noiselessly on the instant and resolved itself into the salaamingperson of Peter the Sikh. He had slept across Stella's threshold eversince her bereavement. 

"My _mem-sahib_ is still awake, " he told her with a touch ofwistfulness. "She sleeps only when the night is nearly spent. "

"And you sleep at her door?" queried Mrs. Ralston, slightlydisconcerted. 

The tall form bent again with dignified courtesy. "That is my privilege, _mem-sahib, _" said Peter the Great. 

He smiled mournfully, and made way for her to pass. 

Mrs. Ralston knocked, and heard a low voice speak in answer. "What isit, Peter?"

Softly she opened the door. "It is I, my dear. Are you in bed? May Icome and bid you good night?"

"Of course, " Stella made instant reply. "How good you are! How kind!"

A shaded night-lamp was burning by her side. Her face upon the pillowwas in deep shadow. Her hair spread all around her, wrapping her as itwere in mystery. 

As Mrs. Ralston drew near, she stretched out a welcoming hand. "I hopemy watch-dog didn't startle you, " she said. "The dear fellow is soupset that I don't want an _ayah_, he is doing his best to turn himselfinto one. I couldn't bear to send him away. You don't mind?"

"My dear, I mind nothing. " Mrs. Ralston stooped in her warm way andkissed the pale, still face. "Are you comfortable? Have you everythingyou want?"

"Everything, thank you, " Stella answered, drawing her hostess gentlydown to sit on the side of the bed. "I feel rested already. Somehow yourpresence is restful. "

"Oh, my dear!" Mrs. Ralston flushed with pleasure. Not many were thecompliments that came her way. "And you feel as if you will be able tosleep?"

Stella's eyes looked unutterably weary; yet she shook her head. "No. Inever sleep much before morning. I think I slept too much when I was inKashmir. The days and nights all seemed part of one long dream. " Aslight shudder assailed her; she repressed it with a shadowy smile. "Life here will be very different, " she said. "Perhaps I shall be ableto wake up now. I am not in the least a dreamy person as a rule. "

The quick tears sprang to Mrs. Ralston's eyes; she stroked Stella's handwithout speaking. 

"I wanted to go back to Kurrumpore with Tommy, " Stella went on, "but hewon't hear of it, though he tells me that you stayed there through lastsummer. If you could stand it, so could I. I feel sure that physically Iam much stronger. "

"Oh no, dear, no. You couldn't do it. " Mrs. Ralston looked down upon thebeautiful face very tenderly. "I am tough, you know, dried up and wiry. And I had a very strong motive. But you are different. You would neverstand a hot season at Kurrumpore. I can't tell you what it is likethere. At its worst it is unspeakable. I am very glad that Tommyrealizes the impossibility of it. No, no! Stay here with me till I godown! I am always the first. And it will give me so much pleasure totake care of you. "

Stella relinquished the discussion with a short sigh. "It doesn't seemto matter much what I do, " she said. "Tommy certainly doesn't need me. No one does. And I expect you will soon get very tired of me. "

"Never, dear, never. " Mrs. Ralston's hand clasped hers reassuringly. "Never think that for a moment! From the very first day I saw you I havewanted to have you to love and care for. "

A gleam of surprise crossed Stella's face. "How very kind of you!" shesaid. 

"Oh no, dear. It was your own doing. You are so beautiful, " murmured thesurgeon's wife. "And I knew that you were the same all through--beautifulto the very soul. "

"Oh, don't say that!" Sharply Stella broke in upon her. "Don't think it!You don't know me in the least. You--you have far more beauty of soulthan I have, or can ever hope to have now. "

Mrs. Ralston shook her head. 

"But it is so, " Stella insisted. "I--What am I?" A tremor of passioncrept unawares into her low voice. "I am a woman who has been deniedeverything. I have been cast out like Eve, but without Eve'scompensations. If I had been given a child to love, I might have hadhope. But now I have none--I have none. I am hard and bitter, --oldbefore my time, and I shall never now be anything else. "

"Oh, darling, no!" Very swiftly Mrs. Ralston checked her. "Indeed youare wrong. We can make of our lives what we will. Believe me, the barrenwoman can be a joyful mother of children if she will. There is alwayssomeone to love. "

Stella's lips were quivering. She turned her face aside. "Life is verydifficult, " she said. 

"It gets simpler as one goes on, dear, " Mrs. Ralston assured her gently. "Not easy, oh no, not easy. We were never meant to make an easy-chair ofcircumstance however favourable. But if we only press on, it does getsimpler, and the way opens out before us as we go. I have learnt that atleast from life. " She paused a moment, then bent suddenly down and spokeinto Stella's ear. "May I tell you something about myself--something Ihave never before breathed to any one--except to God?"

Stella turned instantly. "Yes, tell me!" she murmured back, claspingclosely the thin hand that had so tenderly stroked her own. 

Mrs. Ralston hesitated a second as one who pauses before making asupreme effort. Then under her breath she spoke again. "Perhaps it willnot interest you much. I don't know. It is only this. Like you, Iwanted--I hoped for--a child. And--I married without loving--just forthat. Stella, my sin was punished. The baby came--and went--and therecan never be another. I thought my heart was broken at the time. Oh, itwas bitter--bitter. Even now--sometimes--" She stopped herself. "But no, I needn't trouble you with that. I only want to tell you that verybeautiful flowers bloom sometimes out of ashes. And it has been so withme. My rose of love was slow in growing, but it blossoms now, and I amtraining it over all the blank spaces. And it grew out of a barren soil, dear, out of a barren soil. "

Stella's arms were close about her as she finished. "Oh, thank you, " shewhispered tremulously, "thank you for telling me that. "

But though she was deeply stirred, no further confidence could she bringherself to utter. She had found a friend--a close, staunch friend whowould never fail her; but not even to her could she show the blacknessof the gulf into which she had been hurled. Even now there were timeswhen she seemed to be still falling, falling, and always, waking orsleeping, the nightmare horror of it clung cold about her soul. 

CHAPTER III

THE BARREN SOIL

No one could look askance at poor Ralph Dacre's young widow. LadyHarriet Mansfield graciously hinted as much when she paid her state callwithin a week of her arrival. Also, she desired to ascertain Stella'splans for the future, and when she heard that she intended to return toKurrumpore with Mrs. Ralston she received the news with a species ofcondescending approval that seemed to indicate that Stella's days ofprobation were past. With the exercise of great care and circumspectionshe might even ultimately be admitted to the fortunate circle whichsunned itself in the light of Lady Harriet's patronage. 

Tommy elevated his nose irreverently when the august presence waswithdrawn and hoped that Stella would not have her head turned by theroyal favour. He prophesied that Mrs. Burton would be the next to comesimpering round, and in this he was not mistaken; but Stella did notreceive this visitor, for on the following day she was in bed with anattack of fever that prostrated her during the rest of his leave. 

It was not a dangerous illness, and Mrs. Ralston nursed her through itwith a devotion that went far towards cementing the friendship alreadybegun between them. Tommy, though regretful, consoled himself by theready means of the station's gaieties, played tennis with zest, inaugurated a gymkhana, and danced practically every night into theearly morning. He was a delightful companion for little Tessa Ermstedwho followed him everywhere and was never snubbed, an inquiring mindnotwithstanding. Truly a nice boy was Tommy, as everyone agreed, and theregret was general when his leave began to draw to a close. 

On the afternoon of his last day he made his appearance on the verandahof The Grand Stand for tea, with his faithful attendant at his heels, tofind his sister reclining there for the first time on a _charpoy_ welllined with cushions, while Mrs. Ralston presided at the tea-table besideher. 

She looked the ghost of her former self, and for a moment though he hadvisited her in bed only that morning, Tommy was rudely startled. 

"Great Jupiter!" he ejaculated. "How ill you look!"

She smiled at his exclamation, while his small, sharp-faced companionpricked up attentive ears. "Do people look like that when they're goingto die?" she asked. 

"Not in the least, dear, " said Mrs. Ralston tranquilly. "Come and speakto Mrs. Dacre and tell us what you have been doing!"

But Tessa would only stand on one leg and stare, till Stella put forth afriendly hand and beckoned her to a corner of her _charpoy_. 

She went then, still staring with wide round eyes of intensest blue thatgazed out of a somewhat pinched little face of monkey-like intelligence. 

"What have you and Tommy been doing?" Stella asked. 

"Oh, just hobnobbing, " said Tessa. "Same as Mother and the Rajah. "

"Have some cake!" said Tommy. "And tell us all about the mongoose!"

"Oh, Scooter! He's such a darling! Shall I bring him to see you?" askedTessa, lifting those wonderful unchildlike eyes of hers to Stella's. "You'd love him! I know you would. He talks--almost. Captain Monck gavehim to me. I never liked him before, but I do now. I wish he'd comeback, and so does Tommy. Don't you think he's a nice man?"

"I don't know him very well, " said Stella. 

"Oh, don't you? That's because he's so quiet. I used to think he wassurly. But he isn't really. He's only shy. Is he, Aunt Mary?" The blueeyes whisked round to Mrs. Ralston and were met by a slightly reprovingshake of the head. "No, but really, " Tessa protested, "he is a nice man. Tommy says so. Mother doesn't like him, but that's nothing to go by. Thepeople she likes are hardly ever nice. Daddy says so. "

"Tessa, " said Mrs. Ralston gently, "we don't want to hear about that. Tell us some more about Captain Monck's mongoose instead!"

Tessa frowned momentarily. Such nursery discipline was something of aninsult to her eight years' dignity, but in a second she sent a dazzlingsmile to her hostess, accepting the rebuff. "All right, Aunt Mary, I'llbring him to see you to-morrow, shall I?" she said brightly. "Mrs. Dacrewill like that too. It'll be something to amuse us when Tommy's gone. "

Tommy looked across with a grin. "Yes, keep your spirits up!" he said. "It's dull work with the boys away, isn't it, Aunt Mary? And Scooter isa most sagacious animal--almost as intelligent as Peter the Great whocoils himself on Stella's threshold every night as if he thought thebogeyman was coming to spirit her away. He's developing into a habit, isn't he Stella? You'd better be careful. "

Stella smiled her faint, tired smile. "I like to have him there, " shesaid. "I am not nervous, of course, but he is a friend. "

"You'll never shake him off, " predicted Tommy. "He comes of a romanticstock. Hullo! Here is his high mightiness with the mail! Look at thesparkle in Aunt Mary's eyes! Did you ever see the like? She expects todraw a prize evidently. "

He stretched a leisurely arm and took the letter from the salver thatthe Indian extended. It was for Mrs. Ralston, and she received itblushing like an eager girl. 

"Why does Aunt Mary look like that?" piped Tessa, ever observant. "It'sonly from the Major. Mother never looks like that when Daddy writes toher. "

"Perhaps Daddy's letters are not so interesting, " suggested Tommy. 

Tessa chuckled. "Shall I tell you what? She'd ever so much rather have aletter from the Rajah. I know she would. She keeps his locked up, butshe never bothers about Daddy's. I can't think what the Rajah finds towrite about when they are always meeting. I think it's silly, don'tyou?"

"Very silly, " said Tommy. "I hate writing letters myself. Beastly dullwork. "

"Perhaps you will excuse me while I read mine, " said Mrs. Ralston. 

Stella smiled at her. "Oh do! Perhaps there will be some interestingnews of Kurrumpore in it. "

"News of Monck perhaps, " suggested Tommy. "There's a fellow who neverwrites a letter. I haven't the faintest idea where he is or what he isdoing, except that he went to his brother somewhere in England. He isdue back in about a fortnight, but I probably shan't hear a word of himuntil he's there. "

"You have not written to him either?" questioned Stella. 

"I couldn't. I didn't know where to write. " Tommy's eyes met hers withslight hesitation. "I haven't been able to tell him anything of ouraffairs. It's quite possible though that he will have heard before hegets back to The Green Bungalow. He generally gets hold of things. "

"It need not make any difference. " Stella spoke slowly, her eyes fixedupon the green race-course that gleamed in the sun below them. "So faras I am concerned, he is quite welcome to remain at The Green Bungalow. I daresay we should not get in each other's way. That is, " she looked ather brother, "if you prefer that arrangement. "

"I say, that's jolly decent of you!" Tommy's face was flushed withpleasure. "Sure you mean it?"

"Quite sure. " Stella spoke rather wearily. "It really doesn't matter tome--except that I don't want to come between you and your friend. Nowthat I have been married--" a tinge of bitterness sounded in hervoice--"I suppose no one will take exception. But of course CaptainMonck may see the matter in a different light. If so, pray let him do ashe thinks fit!"

"You bet he will!" said Tommy. "He's about the most determined cuss thatever lived. "

"He's a very nice man, " put in Tessa jealously. 

Tommy laughed. "He's one of the best, " he agreed heartily. "And he's thesort that always comes out on top sooner or later. Just you rememberthat, Tessa! He's a winner, and he's straight--straight as a die. ""Which is all that matters, " said Mrs. Ralston, without lifting her eyesfrom her letter. 

"Hear, hear!" said Tommy. "Why do you look like that, Stella? Mean tosay he isn't straight?"

"I didn't say anything. " Stella still spoke wearily, albeit she wasfaintly smiling. "I was only wondering. "

"Wondering what?" Tommy's voice had a hint of sharpness; he lookedmomentarily aggressive. 

"Just wondering how much you knew of him, that's all, " she made answer. 

"I know as much as any one, " asserted Tommy quickly. "He's a man to behonoured. I'd stake my life on that. He is incapable of anything mean orunderhand. "

Stella was silent. The boy's faith was genuine, she knew, but, remembering what Ralph Dacre had told her on their last night together, she could not stifle the wonder as to whether Tommy had ever grasped theactual quality of his friend's character. It seemed to her that Tommy'sworship was of too humble a species to afford him a very comprehensiveview of the object thereof. She was sure that unlike herself--he wouldnever presume to criticize, would never so much as question any actionof Monck's. Her own conception of the man, she was aware, had alteredsomewhat since that night. She regarded him now with a whollydispassionate interest. She had attracted him, but she much doubted ifthe attraction had survived her marriage. For herself, that chapter inher life was closed and could never, she now believed, be reopened. Monck had gone his way, she hers, and they had drifted apart. Only bythe accident of circumstance would they meet again, and she wasdetermined that when this meeting took place their relations should beof so impersonal a character that he should find it well-nigh impossibleto recall the fact that any hint of romance had ever hovered even for afleeting moment between them. He had his career before him. He followedthe way of ambition, and he should continue to follow it, unhindered byany thought of her. She was dependent upon no man. She would pick up thethreads of her own life and weave of it something that should be worthwhile. With the return of health this resolution was forming within her. Mrs. Ralston's influence was making itself felt. She believed that theway would open out before her as she went. She had made one greatmistake. She would never make such another. She would be patient. Itmight be in time that to her, even as to her friend, a blossoming mightcome out of the barren soil in which her life was cast. 

CHAPTER IV

THE SUMMONS

During those months spent at Bhulwana with the surgeon's wife a measureof peace did gradually return to Stella. She took no part in thegaieties of the station, but her widow's mourning made it easy for herto hold aloof. Undoubtedly she earned Lady Harriet's approval by sodoing, but Mrs. Ermsted continued to look at her askance, notwithstanding the fact that her small daughter had developed a warmliking for the sister of her beloved Tommy. 

"Wait till she gets back to Kurrumpore, " said Mrs. Ermsted. "We shallsee her in her true colours then. "

She did not say this to Mrs. Ralston. She visited The Grand Stand lessand less frequently. She was always full of engagements and seldom had amoment to spare for the society of this steady friend of hers. And Mrs. Ralston never sought her out. It was not her way. She was ready for all, but she intruded upon none. 

Mrs. Ralston's affection for Stella had become very deep. There wasbetween them a sympathy that was beyond words. They understood eachother. 

As the wet season drew on, their companionship became more and moreintimate though their spoken confidences were few. Mrs. Ralston neverasked for confidences though she probably received more than any otherwoman in the station. 

It was on a day in September of drifting clouds and unbroken rain thatStella spoke at length of a resolution that had been gradually formingin her mind. She found no difficulty in speaking; in fact it seemed thenatural thing to do. And she felt even as she gave utterance to thewords that Mrs. Ralston already knew their import. 

"Mary, " she said, "after Christmas I am going back to England. "

Mrs. Ralston betrayed no surprise. She was in the midst of an elaboratedarn in the heel of a silk sock. She looked across at Stella gravely. 

"And when you get there, my dear?" she said. 

"I shall find some work to do. " Stella spoke with the decision of onewho gives utterance to the result of careful thought. "I think I shallgo in for hospital training. It is hard work, I know; but I am strong. Ithink hard work is what I need. "

Mrs. Ralston was silent. 

Stella went on. "I see now that I made a mistake in ever coming outhere. It wasn't as if Tommy really wanted me. He doesn't, you know. Hisfriend Captain Monck is all-sufficing--and probably better for him. Inany case--he doesn't need me. "

"You may be right, dear, " Mrs. Ralston said, "though I doubt if Tommywould view it in the same light. I am glad anyhow that you will spendChristmas out here. I shall not lose you so soon. "

Stella smiled a little. "I don't want to hurt Tommy's feelings, and Iknow they would be hurt if I went sooner. Besides I would like to haveone cold weather out here. "

"And why not?" said Mrs. Ralston. She added after a moment, "What willyou do with Peter?"

Stella hesitated. "That is one reason why I have not come to a decisionsooner. I don't like leaving poor Peter. It occurred to me possibly thatdown at Kurrumpore he might find another master. Anyway, I shall tellhim my plans when I get there, and he will have the opportunity"--shesmiled rather sadly--"to transfer his devotion to someone else. "

"He won't take it, " said Mrs. Ralston with conviction. "The fidelity ofthese men is amazing. It puts us to shame. "

"I hate the thought of parting with him, " Stella said. "But what can Ido?"

She broke off short as the subject of their discussion came softly intothe room, salver in hand. He gave her a telegram and stood backdecorously behind her chair while she opened it. 

Mrs. Ralston's grave eyes watched her, and in a moment Stella looked upand met them. "From Kurrumpore, " she said. 

Her face was pale, but her hands and voice were steady. 

"From Tommy?" questioned Mrs. Ralston. 

"No. From Captain Monck. Tommy is ill--very ill. Malaria again. Hethinks I had better go to him. "

"Oh, my dear!" Mrs. Ralston's exclamation held dismay. 

Stella met it by holding out to her the message. "Tommy down withmalaria, " it said. "Condition serious. Come if you are able. Monck. "

Mrs. Ralston rose. She seemed to be more agitated than Stella. "I shallgo too, " she said. 

"No, dear, no!" Stella stopped her. "There is no need for that. I shallbe all right. I am perfectly strong now, stronger than you are. And theysay malaria never attacks newcomers so badly. No. I will go alone. Iwon't be answerable to your husband for you. Really, dear, really, I amin earnest. "

Her insistence prevailed, albeit Mrs. Ralston yielded very unwillingly. She was not very strong, and she knew well that her husband would begreatly averse to her taking such a step. But the thought of Stellagoing alone was even harder to face till her look suddenly fell uponPeter the Great standing motionless behind her chair. 

"Ah well, you will have Peter, " she said with relief. 

And Stella, who was bending already over her reply telegram, repliedinstantly with one of her rare smiles. "Of course I shall have Peter!"

Peter's responding smile was good to see. "I will take care of my_mem-sahib_, " he said. 

Stella's reply was absolutely simple. "Starting at once, " she wrote; andwithin half an hour her preparations were complete. 

She knew Monck well enough to be certain that he would not havetelegraphed that urgent message had not the need been great. He hadnursed Tommy once before, and she knew that in Tommy's estimation atleast he had been the means of saving his life. He was a man of steadynerve and level judgment. He would not have sent for her if his faith inhis own powers had not begun to weaken. It meant that Tommy was veryill, that he might be dying. All that was great in Stella rose upimpulsively at the call. Tommy had never really wanted her before. 

To Mrs. Ralston who at the last stood over her with a glass of wine shewas as a different woman. There was nothing headlong about her, but thequiet energy of her made her realize that she had been fashioned forbetter things than the social gaieties with which so many were content. Stella would go to the deep heart of life. 

She yearned to accompany her upon her journey to the plains, butStella's solemn promise to send for her if she were taken ill herselfconsoled her in a measure. Very regretfully did she take leave of her, and when the rattle of the wheels that bore Stella and the faithfulPeter away had died at last in the distance she turned back into herempty bungalow with tears in her eyes. Stella had become dear to her asa sister. 

It was an all-night journey, and only a part of it could be accomplishedby train, the line ending at Khanmulla which was reached in the earlyhours of the morning. But for Peter's ministrations Stella wouldprobably have fared ill, but he was an experienced traveller andsurrounded her with every comfort that he could devise. The night wasclose and dank. They travelled through pitch darkness. Stella lay backand tried to sleep; but sleep would not come to her. She was tired, butrepose eluded her. The beating of the unceasing rain upon the tin roof, and the perpetual rattle of the train made an endless tattoo in herbrain from which there was no escape. She was haunted by the memory ofthe last journey that she had made along that line when leavingKurrumpore in the spring, of Ralph and the ever-growing passion in hiseyes, of the first wild revolt within her which she had so barelyquelled. How far away seemed those days of an almost unbelievabletorture! She could regard them now dispassionately, albeit with wonder. She marvelled now that she had ever given herself to such a man. By thelight of experience she realized how tragic had been her blunder, andnow that the awful sense of shock and desolation had passed she could bethankful that no heavier penalty had been exacted. The man had beentaken swiftly, mercifully, as she believed. He had been spared much, andshe--she had been delivered from a fate far worse. For she could neverhave come to love him. She was certain of that. Lifelong misery wouldhave been her portion, school herself to submission though she might. She believed that the awakening from that dream of lethargy could nothave been long deferred for either of them, and with it would have comea bitterness immeasurable. She did not think he had ever honestlybelieved that she loved him. But at least he had never guessed at theactual repulsion with which at times she had been filled. She wasthankful to think that he could never know that now, thankful that nowshe had come into her womanhood it was all her own. She valued herfreedom almost extravagantly since it had been given back to her. Andshe also valued the fact that in no worldly sense was she the richer forhaving been Ralph Dacre's wife. He had had no private means, and she wasthankful that this was so. She could not have endured to reap anybenefit from what she now regarded as a sin. She had borne herpunishment, she had garnered her experience. And now she walked oncemore with unshackled feet; and though all her life she would carry themarks of the chain that had galled her she had travelled far enough torealize and be thankful for her liberty. 

The train rattled on through the night. Anxiety came, wraith-like atfirst, drifting into her busy brain. She had hardly had time to beanxious in the rush of preparation and departure. But restlessness pavedthe way. She began to ask herself with growing uneasiness what could beawaiting her at the end of the journey. The summons had been so clearand imperative. Her first thought, her instinct, had been to obey. Tillthe enforced inaction of this train journey she had not had time to feelthe gnawing torture of suspense. But now it came and racked her. Thethought of Tommy and his need became paramount. Did he know that she washastening to him, she wondered? Or had he--had he already passed beyondher reach? Men passed so quickly in this tropical wilderness. The solemnmusic of an anthem she had known and loved in the old far-off days ofher girlhood rose and surged through her. She found herself repeatingthe words:

 "Our life is but a shadow; So soon passeth it away, And we are gone, -- So soon, --so soon. "

The repetition of those last words rang like a knell. But Tommy! Shecould not think of Tommy's eager young life passing so. Those words werewritten for the old and weary. But for such as Tommy--a thousand timesNo! He was surely too ardent, too full of life, to pass so. She felt asif he were years younger than herself. 

And then another thought came to her, a curious haunting thought. Wasthe Nemesis that had overtaken her in the forbidden paradise yetpursuing her with relentless persistence? Was the measure of herpunishment not yet complete? Did some further vengeance still follow herin the wilderness of her desolation? She tried to fling the thought fromher, but it clung like an evil dream. She could not wholly shake off theimpression that it had made upon her. 

Slowly the night wore away. The heat was intense. She felt as if shewere sitting in a tank of steaming vapour. The oppression of theatmosphere was like a physical weight. And ever the rain beat down, rattling, incessant, upon the tin roof above her head. She thought ofNemesis again, Nemesis wielding an iron flail that never missed itsmark. There was something terrible to her in this perpetual beating ofrain. She had never imagined anything like it. 

It was in the dark of the early morning that she began at last to nearher destination. A ten-mile drive through the jungle awaited her, sheknew. She wondered if Monck had made provision for this or if allarrangements would be left in Peter's capable hands. She had never feltmore thankful for this trusty servant of hers than now with theloneliness and darkness of this unfamiliar world hedging her round. Shefelt almost as one in a hostile country, and even the thought of Tommyand his need could not dispel the impression. 

The train rattled into the little iron-built station of Khanmulla. Therainfall seemed to increase as they stopped. It was like the beating ofrods upon the station-roof. There came the usual hubbub of discordantcries, but in foreign voices and in a foreign tongue. 

Stella gathered her property together in readiness for Peter. Then sheturned, somewhat stiff after her long journey, and found the dooralready swinging open and a man's broad shoulders blocking the opening. 

"How do you do?" said Monck. 

She started at the sound of his voice. His face was in the shadow, butin a moment his features, dark and dominant, flashed to her memory. Shebent to him swiftly, with outstretched hand. 

"How good of you to meet me! How is Tommy?"

He held her hand for an instant, and she was aware of a sharp tinglingthroughout her being, as though by means of that strong grasp he hadimparted strength. "He is about as bad as a man can be, " he said. "Ralston has been with him all night. I've borrowed his two-seater tofetch you. Don't waste any time!"

Her heart gave a throb of dismay. The brief words were as flail-like asthe rain. They demanded no answer, and she made none; only instantsubmission, and that she gave. 

She had a glimpse of Peter's tall form standing behind Monck, and to himfor a moment she turned as she descended. 

"You will see to everything?" she said. "You will follow. "

"Leave all to me, my _mem-sahib_!" he said, deeply bowing; and she tookhim at his word. 

Monck had a military overcoat on his arm in which he wrapped her beforethey left the station-shelter. Ralston's little two-seater car sheddazzling beams of light through the dripping dark. She flounderedblindly into a pool of water before she reached it, and was doublystartled by Monck lifting her bodily, without apology, out of the mire, and placing her on the seat. The beat of the rain upon the hood made herwonder if they could make any headway under it. And then, while she wasstill wondering, the engine began to throb like a living thing, and shewas aware of Monck squeezing past her to his seat at the wheel. 

He did not speak, but he wrapped the rug firmly about her, and almostbefore she had time to thank him, they were in motion. 

That night-ride was one of the wildest experiences that she had everknown. Monck went like the wind. The road wound through the jungle, andin many places was little more than a rough track. The car bumped andjolted, and seemed to cry aloud for mercy. But Monck did not spare, andStella crouched beside him, too full of wonder to be afraid. 

They emerged from the jungle at length and ran along an open roadbetween wide fields of rice or cotton. Their course became easier, andStella realized that they were nearing the end of their journey. Theywere approaching the native portion of Kurrumpore. 

She turned to the silent man beside her. "Is Tommy expecting me?" sheasked. 

He did not answer her immediately; then, "He was practically unconsciouswhen I left, " he said. 

He put on speed with the words. They shot forward through the peltingrain at a terrific pace. She divined that his anxiety was such that hedid not wish to talk. 

They passed through the native quarter as if on wings. The rain fell ina deluge here. It was like some power of darkness striving to beat themback. She pictured Monck's face, grim, ruthless, forcing his way throughthe opposing element. The man himself she could barely see. 

And then, almost before she realized it, they were in the Europeancantonment, and she heard the grinding of the brakes as they reached thegate of The Green Bungalow. Monck turned the little car into thecompound, and a light shone down upon them from the verandah. 

The car came to a standstill. "Do you mind getting out first?" saidMonck. 

She got out with a dazed sense of unreality. He followed herimmediately; his hand, hard and muscular, grasped her arm. He led her upthe wooden steps all shining and slippery in the rain. 

In the shelter of the verandah he stopped. "Wait here a moment!" hesaid. 

But Stella turned swiftly, detaining him. "No, no!" she said. "I amcoming with you. I would rather know at once. "

He shrugged his shoulders without remonstrance, and stood back for herto precede him. Later it seemed to her that it was the most mercifulthing he could have done. At the time she did not pause to thank him, but went swiftly past, taking her way straight along the verandah toTommy's room. 

The window was open, and a bar of light stretched therefrom like a fierysword into the streaming rain. Just for a second that gleaming shaftdaunted her. Something within her shrank affrighted. Then, aware ofMonck immediately behind her, she conquered her dread and entered. Shesaw that the bar of light came from a hooded lamp which was turnedtowards the window, leaving the bed in shadow. Over the latter a man wasbending. He straightened himself sharply at her approach, and sherecognized Major Ralston. 

And then she had reached the bed, and all the love in her heart pulsedforth in yearning tenderness as she stooped. "Tommy!" she said. "Mydarling!"

He did not stir in answer. He lay like a figure carved in marble. Suddenly the rays of the lamp were turned upon him, and she saw that hisface was livid. The eyes were closed and sunken. A terrible misgivingstabbed her. Almost involuntarily she drew back. 

In the same moment she felt Monck's hands upon her. He was unbuttoningthe overcoat in which she was wrapped. She stood motionless, feelingcold, powerless, strangely dependent upon him. 

As he stripped the coat back from her shoulders, he spoke, his voicevery measured and quiet, but kind also, even soothing. 

"Don't give up!" he said. "We'll pull him through between us. "

A queer little thrill went through her. Again she felt as if he hadimparted strength. She turned back to the bed. 

Major Ralston was on the other side. Across that silent form he spoke toher. 

"See if you can get him to take this! I am afraid he's past it. Buttry!"

She saw that he was holding a spoon, and she commanded herself and tookit from him. She wondered at the steadiness of her own hand as she putit to the white, unconscious lips. They were rigidly closed, and for afew moments she thought her task was hopeless. Then very slowly theyparted. She slipped the spoon between. 

The silence in the room was deathly, the heat intense, heavy, pall-like. Outside, the rain fell monotonously, and, mingling with itsbeating, she heard the croaking of innumerable frogs. Neither Ralstonnor Monck stirred a finger. They were watching closely with batedbreath. 

Tommy's breathing was wholly imperceptible, but in that long, long pauseshe fancied she saw a slight tremor at his throat. Then the liquid thathad been in the spoon began to trickle out at the corner of his mouth. 

She stood up, turning instinctively to the man beside her. "Oh, it's nouse, " she said hopelessly. 

He bent swiftly forward. "Let me try! Quick, Ralston! Have it ready!That's it. Now then, Tommy! Now, lad!"

He had taken her place almost before she knew it. She saw him stoop withabsolute assurance and slip his arm under the boy's shoulders. Tommy'sinert head fell back against him, but she saw his strong right hand comeout and take the spoon that Ralston held out. His dark face was bent tohis task, and it held no dismay, only unswerving determination. 

"Tommy!" he said again, and in his voice was a certain grim tendernessthat moved her oddly, sending the tears to her eyes before she couldcheck them. "Tommy, wake up, man! If you think you're going out now, you're damn well mistaken. Wake up, do you hear? Wake up and swallowthis stuff! There! You've got it. Now swallow--do you hear?--swallow!"

He held the spoon between Tommy's lips till it was emptied of everydrop; then thrust it back at Ralston. 

"Here take it! Pour out some more! Now, Tommy lad, it's up to you!Swallow it like a dear fellow! Yes, you can if you try. Give your mindto it! Pull up, boy, pull up! play the damn game! Don't go back on me!Ah, you didn't know I was here, did you? Thought you'd slope while myback was turned. You weren't quick enough, my lad. You've got to comeback. "

There was a strange note of passion in his voice. It was obvious toStella that he had utterly forgotten himself in the gigantic task beforehim. Body and soul were bent to its fulfillment. She could see theperspiration running down his face. She stood and watched, thrilledthrough and through with the wonder of what she saw. 

For at the call of that curt, insistent voice Tommy moved and maderesponse. It was like the return of a departing spirit. He came out ofthat deathly inertia. He opened his eyes upon Monck's face, staring upat him with an expression half-questioning and half-expectant. 

"You haven't swallowed that stuff yet, " Monck reminded him. "Get rid ofthat first! What a child you are, Tommy! Why can't you behave yourself?"

Tommy's throat worked spasmodically, he made a mighty effort andsucceeded in swallowing. Then, through lips that twitched as if he weregoing to cry, weakly he spoke. 

"Hullo--hullo--you old bounder!"

"Hullo!" said Monck in stern rejoinder. "A nice game this! Aren't youashamed of yourself? You ought to be. I'm furious with you. Do you knowthat?"

"Don't care--a damn, " said Tommy, and forced his quivering lips to asmile. 

"You will presently, you--puppy!" said Monck witheringly. "You're morebother than you're worth. Come on, Ralston! Give him another dose!Tommy, you hang on, or I'll know the reason why! There, you little ass!What's the matter with you?"

For Tommy's smile had crumpled into an expression of woe in spite ofhim. He turned his face into Monck's shoulder, piteously striving tohide his weakness. 

"Feel--so beastly--bad, " he whispered. 

"All right, old fellow, all right! I know. " Monck's hand was on hishead, soothing, caressing, comforting. "Stick to it like a Briton! We'llpull you round. Think I don't understand? What? But you've got to doyour bit, you know. You've got to be game. And here's your sisterwaiting to lend a hand, come all the way to this filthy hole on purpose. You are not going to let her see you go under. Come, Tommy lad!"

The tears overflowed down Stella's cheeks. She dared not show herself. But, fortunately for her, Tommy did not desire it. Monck's words tookeffect upon him, and he made a trembling effort to pull himselftogether. 

"Don't let her see me--like this!" he murmured. "I'll be betterpresently. You tell her, old chap, and--I say--look after her, won'tyou?"

"All right, you cuckoo, " said Monck. 

CHAPTER V

THE MORNING

Day broke upon a world of streaming rain. Stella sat before a mealspread in the dining-room and wanly watched it. Peter hovered near her;she had a suspicion that the meal was somehow of his contriving. But howhe had arrived she had not the least idea and was too weary to ask. 

Tommy had fallen into natural sleep, and Ralston had persuaded her toleave him in his care for a while, promising to send for her at once ifoccasion arose. She had left Monck there also, but she fancied Ralstondid not mean to let him stay. Her thoughts dwelt oddly upon Monck. Hehad surprised her; more, in some fashion he had pierced straight throughher armour of indifference. Wholly without intention he had imposed hispersonality upon her. He had made her recognize him as a force thatcounted. Though Major Ralston had been engaged upon the same task, sherealized that it was his effort alone that had brought Tommy back. And--she saw it clearly--it was sheer love and nought else that hadobtained the mastery. This man whom she had always regarded as a beingapart, grimly self-contained, too ambitious to be capable of more than apassing fancy, had shown her something in his soul which she knew to beDivine. He was not, it seemed, so aloof as she had imagined him to be. The friendship between himself and Tommy was not the one-sided affairthat she and a good many others had always believed it. He cared forTommy, cared very deeply. Somehow that fact made a vast difference toher, such a difference as seemed to reach to the very centre of herbeing. She felt as if she had underrated something great. 

The rush of the rain on the roof of the verandah seemed to make coherentthought impossible. She gazed at the meal before her and wondered if shecould bring herself to partake of it. Peter had put everything ready toher hand, and in justice to him she felt as if she ought to make theattempt. But a leaden weariness was upon her. She felt more inclined tosink back in her chair and sleep. 

There came a sound behind her, and she was aware of someone entering. She fancied it was Peter returned to mark her progress, and stretchedher hand to the coffee-urn. But ere she touched it she knew that she wasmistaken. She turned and saw Monck. 

By the grey light of the morning his face startled her. She had neverseen it look so haggard. But out of it the dark eyes shone, alert andindomitable, albeit she suspected that they had not slept for manyhours. 

He made her a brief bow. "May I join you?" he said. 

His manner was formal, but she could not stand on her dignity with himat that moment. Impulsively, almost involuntarily it seemed to herlater, she rose, offering him both her hands. "Captain Monck, " she said, "you are--splendid!"

Words and action were alike wholly spontaneous. They were also whollyunexpected. She saw a strange look flash across his face. Just for asecond he hesitated. Then he took her hands and held them fast. 

"Ah--Stella!" he said. 

With the name his eyes kindled. His weariness vanished as darknessvanishes before the glare of electricity. He drew her suddenly andswiftly to him. 

For a few throbbing seconds Stella was so utterly amazed that she madeno resistance. He astounded her at every turn, this man. And yet in somestrange and vital fashion her moods responded to his. He was not beyondcomprehension or even sympathy. But as she found his dark face close tohers and felt his eyes scorch her like a flame, expediency rather thandismay urged her to action. There was something so sublimely naturalabout him at that moment that she could not feel afraid. 

She drew back from him gasping. "Oh please--please!" she said. "CaptainMonck, let me go!"

He held her still, though he drew her no closer. "Must I?" he said. Andin a lower voice, "Have you forgotten how once in this very room youtold me--that I had come to you--too late? And--now!"

The last words seemed to vibrate through and through her. She quiveredfrom head to foot. She could not meet the passion in his eyes, butdesperately she strove to cope with it ere it mounted beyond hercontrol. 

"Ah no, I haven't forgotten, " she said. "But I was a good deal youngerthen. I didn't know much of life. I have changed--I have changedenormously. "

"You have changed--in that respect?" he asked her, and she heard in hisvoice that note of stubbornness which she had heard on that night thatseemed so long ago--the night before her marriage. 

She freed one hand from his hold and set it pleadingly against hisbreast. "That is a difficult question to answer, " she said. "But do youthink a slave would willingly go back into servitude when once he hasfelt the joy of freedom?"

"Is that what marriage means to you?" he said. 

She bent her head. "Yes. "

But still he did not let her go. "Stella, " he said, "I haven't changedsince that night. "

She trembled again, but she spoke no word, nor did she raise her eyes. 

He went on slowly, quietly, almost on a note of fatalism. "It is beyondthe bounds of possibility that I should change. I loved you then, I loveyou now. I shall go on loving you as long as I live. I never thought itpossible that you could care for me--until you told me so. But I shallnot ask you to marry me so long as the thought of marriage means slaveryto you. All I ask is that you will not hold yourself back from lovingme--that you will not be afraid to be true to your own heart. Is thattoo much?"

His voice was steady again. She raised her eyes and met his look. Thepassion had gone out of it, but the dominance remained. She thrilledagain to the mastery that had held Tommy back from death. 

For a moment she could not speak. Then, as he waited, she gathered herstrength to answer. "I mean to be true, " she said rather breathlessly. "But I--I value my freedom too much ever to marry again. Please, I wantyou to understand that. You mustn't think of me in that way. You mustn'tencourage hopes that can never be fulfilled. "

A faint gleam crossed his face. "That is my affair, " he said. 

"Oh, but I mean it. " Quickly she broke in upon him. "I am in earnest. Iam in earnest. It wouldn't be right of me to let you imagine--to let youthink--" she faltered suddenly, for something obstructed her utterance. The next moment swiftly she covered her face. "My dear!" he said. 

He led her back to the table and made her sit down. He knelt beside her, his arms comfortingly around her. 

"I've made you cry, " he said. "You're worn out. Forgive me! I'm a bruteto worry you like this. You've had a rotten time of it, I know, I know. No, don't be afraid of me! I won't say another word. Just lean on me, that's all. I won't let you down, I swear. "

She took him at his word for a space and leaned upon him; for she had noalternative. She was weary to the soul of her; her strength was gone. 

But gradually his strength helped her to recover. She looked up atlength with a quivering smile. "There! I am going to be sensible. Youmust be worn out too. I can see you are. Sit down, won't you, and let usforget this?"

He met her look steadily. "No, I can't forget, " he said. "But I shan'tpester you. I don't believe in pestering any one. I shouldn't have doneit now, only--" he broke off faintly smiling--"it's all Tommy's fault, confound him!" he said, and rose, giving her shoulder a pat that wassomehow more reassuring to her than any words. 

She laughed rather tremulously. "Poor Tommy! Now please sit down andhave a rational meal! You are looking positively gaunt. It will beTommy's and my turn to nurse you next if you are not careful. "

He pulled up a chair and seated himself. "What a pleasing suggestion!But I doubt if Tommy's assistance will be very valuable to any one forsome little time to come. No milk in that coffee, please. I will havesome brandy. "

Looking back upon that early breakfast, Stella smiled to herself thoughnot without misgiving. For somehow, in spite of what had preceded it, itwas a very light-hearted affair. She had never seen Monck in so genial amood. She had not believed him capable of it. For though he lookedwretchedly ill, his spirits were those of a conqueror. 

Doubtless he regarded the turn in Tommy's illness as a distinct andpersonal victory. But was that his only cause for triumph? She wishedshe knew. 

CHAPTER VI

THE NIGHT-WATCH

When Stella saw Tommy again, he greeted her with a smile of welcome thattold her that for him the worst was over. He had returned. But hisweakness was great, greater than he himself realized, and she veryquickly comprehended the reason for Major Ralston's evident anxiety. Sickness was rife everywhere, and now that the most imminent danger waspast he was able to spare but little time for Tommy's needs. He placedhim in Stella's care with many repeated injunctions that she did herutmost to fulfil. 

For the first two days Monck helped her. His management of Tommy wassupremely arbitrary, and Tommy submitted himself with a meekness thatsometimes struck Stella as excessive. But it was so evident that the boyloved to have his friend near him, whatever his mood, that she made nocomments since Monck was not arbitrary with her. She saw but little ofhim after their early morning meal together, for when he could spare thetime to be with Tommy, she took his advice and went to her room for therest she so sorely needed. 

She hoped that Monck rested too during the hours that she was on duty inthe sick-room. She concluded that he did so, though his appearance gavesmall testimony to the truth of her supposition. Once or twice comingupon him suddenly she was positively startled by the haggardness of hislook. But upon this also she made no comment. It seemed advisable toavoid all personal matters in her dealings with him. She was aware thathe suffered no interference from Major Ralston whose time was in fact sofully occupied at the hospital and elsewhere that he was little likelyto wish to add him to his sick list. 

Tommy's recovery, however, was fairly rapid, and on the third nightafter her arrival she was able to lie down in his room and rest betweenher ministrations. Ralston professed himself well satisfied with hisprogress in the morning, and she looked forward to imparting thisfavourable report to Monck. But Monck did not make an appearance. Shewatched for him almost unconsciously all through the day, but he did notcome. Tommy also watched for him, and finally concluded somewhatdiscontentedly that he had gone on some mission regarding which he hadnot deemed it advisable to inform them. 

"He is like that, " he told Stella, and for the first time he spokealmost disparagingly of his hero. "So beastly discreet. He never thinksany one can keep a secret besides himself. "

"Ah well, never mind, " Stella said. "We can do without him. "

But Tommy had reached the stage when the smallest disappointment was aserious matter. He fretted and grew feverish over his friend's absence. 

When Major Ralston saw him that evening he rated him soundly, and even, Stella thought, seemed inclined to blame her also for the set-back inhis patient's condition. 

"He must be kept quiet, " he insisted. "It is absolutely essential, or weshall have the whole trouble over again. I shall have to give him asedative and leave him to you. I can't possibly look in again to-night, so it will be useless to send for me. You will have to manage as bestyou can. "

He departed, and Stella arranged to divide the night-watches with Peterthe Great. She did not privately believe that there was much ground foralarm, but in view of the doctor's very emphatic words she decided tospend the first hours by Tommy's side. Peter would relieve her an hourafter midnight, when at his earnest request she promised to go to herroom and rest. 

The sedative very speedily took effect upon Tommy and he slept calmlywhile she sat beside him with the light from the lamp turned upon herbook. But though her eyes were upon the open page her attention was farfrom it. Her thoughts had wandered to Monck and dwelt persistently uponhim. The memory of that last conversation she had had with Ralph Dacrewould not be excluded from her brain. What was the meaning of thismysterious absence? What was he doing? She felt uneasy, even troubled. There was something about this Secret Service employment which made hershrink, though she felt that had their mutual relations been of thetotally indifferent and casual order she would not have cared. It seemedto her well-nigh impossible to place any real confidence in a man whodeliberately concealed so great a part of his existence. Her instinctwas to trust him, but her reason forbade. She was beginning to askherself if it would not be advisable to leave India just as soon asTommy could spare her. It seemed madness to remain on if she desired toavoid any increase of intimacy with this man who had already so faroverstepped the bounds of convention in his dealing with her. 

And yet--in common honesty she had to admit it--she did not want to go. The attraction that held her was as yet too intangible to be definitelyanalyzed, but she could not deny its existence. She did not love theman--oh, surely she did not love him--for she did not want to marry him. She brought her feelings to that touchstone and it seemed that they wereable to withstand the test. But neither did she want to cut herselffinally adrift from all chance of contact with him. It would hurt her togo. Probably--almost certainly--she would wish herself back again. But, the question remained unanswered, ought she to stay? For the first timeher treasured independence arose and mocked her. She had it in her heartto wish that the decision did not rest with herself. 

It was at this point, while she was yet deep in her meditations, that aslight sound at the window made her look up. It was almost aninstinctive movement on her part. She could not have said that sheactually heard anything besides the falling rain which had died down toa soft patter among the trees in the compound. But something induced hertook up, and so doing, she caught a glimpse of a figure on the verandahwithout that sent all the blood in her body racing to her heart. It wasbut a momentary glimpse. The next instant it was gone, gone like ashadow, so that she found herself asking breathlessly if it had everbeen, or if by any means her imagination had tricked her. For in thatfleeting second it seemed to her that the past had opened its gates toreveal to her a figure which of late had drifted into the back alleys ofmemory--the figure of the dreadful old native who, in some vaguefashion, she had come to regard as the cause of her husband's death. 

She had never seen him again since that awful morning when oblivion hadcaught her as it were on the very edge of the world, but for long afterhe had haunted her dreams so that the very thought of sleep had beenabhorrent to her. But now--like the grim ghost of that strange life thatshe had so resolutely thrust behind her--the whole revoltingpersonality of the man rushed vividly back upon her. 

She sat as one petrified. Surely--surely--she had seen him in the flesh!It could not have been a dream. She was certain that she had not slept. And yet--how had that horrible old Kashmiri beggar come all thesehundreds of miles from his native haunts? It was not likely. It wasbarely possible. And yet she had always been convinced that in some wayhe had known her husband beforehand. Had he come then of set intentionto seek her out, perhaps to attempt to extract money from her?

She could not answer the question, and her whole being shrank from thethought of going out into the darkness to investigate. She could notbring herself to it. Actually she dared not. 

Minutes passed. She sat still gazing and gazing at the blank darkness ofthe window. Nothing moved there. The wild beating of her heart diedgradually down. Surely it had been a mistake after all! Surely she hadfallen into a doze in the midst of her reverie and dreamed this hatefulapparition with the gleaming eyes and famished face!

She exerted her self-command and turned at last to look at Tommy. He wassleeping peacefully with his head on his arm. He would sleep all nightif undisturbed. She laid aside her book and softly rose. 

Her first intention was to go to the door and see if Peter were in thepassage. But the very fact of moving seemed to give her courage. Theman's rest would be short enough; it seemed unkind to disturb him. 

Resolutely she turned to the window, stifling all qualms. She would notbe a wretched coward. She would see for herself. 

The night was steaming hot, and there was a smell of mildew in the air. A swarm of mosquitoes buzzed in the glare thrown by the lamp with ashrill, attenuated sound like the skirl of far-away bagpipes. A creaturewith bat-like wings flapped with a monstrous ungainliness between theouter posts of the verandah. From across the compound an owl called on aweird note of defiance. And in the dim waste of distance beyond sheheard the piercing cry of a jackal. But close at hand, so far as therays of the lamp penetrated, she could discern nothing. 

Stay! What was that? A bar of light from another lamp lay across theverandah, stretching out into the darkness. It came from the room nextto the one in which she stood. Her heart gave a sudden hard throb. Itcame from Monck's room. 

That meant--that meant--what did it mean? That Monck had returned atthat unusual hour? Or that there really was a native intruder who hadfound the window unfastened and entered?

Again the impulse to retreat and call Peter to deal with the situationcame upon her, but almost angrily she shook it off. She would see forherself first. If it were only Monck, then her fancy had indeed playedher false and no one should know it. If it were any one else, it wouldbe time enough then to return and raise the alarm. 

So, reasoning with herself, seeking to reassure herself, crying shame onher fear, she stepped noiselessly forth into the verandah and slipped, silent as that shadow had been, through the intervening space ofdarkness to the open window of Monck's room. 

She reached it, was blinded for a moment by the light that pouredthrough it, then, recovering, peered in. 

A man, dressed in pyjamas, stood facing her, so close to her that heseemed to be in the act of stepping forth. She recognized him in asecond. It was Monck, --but Monck as she never before had seen him, Monckwith eyes alight with fever and lips drawn back like the lips of asnarling animal. In his right hand he gripped a revolver. 

He saw her as suddenly as she saw him, and a rapid change crossed hisface. He reached out and caught her by the shoulder. 

"Come in! Come in!" he said, his words rushing over each other in aconfused jumble utterly unlike his usual incisive speech. "You're safein here. I'll shoot the brute if he dares to come near you again. "

She saw that he was not himself. The awful fire in his eyes alone wouldhave told her that. But words and action so bewildered her that sheyielded to the compelling grip. In a moment she was in the room, and hewas closing and shuttering the window with fevered haste. 

She stood and watched him, a cold sensation beginning to creep about herheart. When he turned round to her, she saw that he was smiling, afierce, triumphant smile. 

He threw down the revolver, and as he did so, she found her voice. "Captain Monck, what does that man want? What--what is he doing?"

He stood looking at her with that dreadful smile about his lips and thered fire leaping, leaping in his eyes. "Can't you guess what he wants?"he said. "He wants--you. "

"Me?" She gazed back at him astounded. "But why--why? Does he want toget money out of me? Where has he gone?"

Monck laughed, a low, terrible laugh. "Never mind where he has gone!I've frightened him off, and I'll shoot him--I'll shoot him--if he comesback! You're mine now--not his. You were right to come to me, quiteright. I was just coming to you. But this is better. No one can comebetween us now. I know how to protect my wife. "

He reached out his hands to her as he ended. His eyes shocked herinexpressibly. They held a glare that was inhuman, almost devilish. 

She drew back from him in open horror. "Captain Monck! I am not yourwife! What can you be thinking of? You--you are not yourself. "

She turned with the words, seeking the door that led into the passage. He made no attempt to check her. Instinct told her, even before she laidher hand upon it, that it was locked. 

She turned back, facing him with all her courage. "Captain Monck, Icommand you to let me go!"

Clear and imperious her voice fell, but it had no more visible effectupon him than the drip of the rain outside. He came towards her swiftly, with the step of a conqueror, ignoring her words as though they hadnever been uttered. 

"I know how to protect my wife, " he reiterated. "I will shoot any manwho tries to take you from me. "

He reached her with the words, and for the first time she flinched, soterrible was his look. She shrank away from him till she stood againstthe closed door. Through lips that felt stiff and cold she forced herprotest. 

"Indeed--indeed--you don't know what you are doing. Open the doorand--let me--go!"

Her voice sounded futile even to herself. Before she ceased to speak, his arms were holding her, his lips, fiercely passionate, were seekinghers. 

She struggled to avoid them, but her strength was as a child's. Hequelled her resistance with merciless force. He choked the cry she triedto utter with the fiery insistence of his kisses. He held her crushedagainst his heart, so overwhelming her with the volcanic fires of hispassion that in the end she lay in his hold helpless and gasping, tooshattered to oppose him further. 

She scarcely knew when the fearful tempest began to abate. All sense oftime and almost of place had left her. She was dizzy, quivering, onfire, wholly incapable of coherent thought, when at last it came to herthat the storm was arrested. 

She heard a voice above her, a strangely broken voice. "My God!" itsaid. "What--have I done?"

It sounded like the question of a man suddenly awaking from a wilddream. She felt the arms that held her relax their grip. She knew thathe was looking at her with eyes that held once more the light of reason. And, oddly, that fact affected her rather with dismay than relief. Burning from head to foot, she turned her own away. 

She felt his hand pass over her shamed and quivering face as though toassure himself that she was actually there in the flesh. And thenabruptly--so abruptly that she tottered and almost fell--he set herfree. 

He turned from her. "God help me! I am mad!" he said. 

She stood with throbbing pulses, gasping for breath, feeling as one whohad passed through raging fires into a desert of smouldering ashes. Sheseemed to be seared from head to foot. The fiery torment of his kisseshad left her tingling in every nerve. 

He moved away to the table on which he had flung his revolver, and stoodthere with his back to her. He was swaying a little on his feet. 

Without looking at her, he spoke, his voice shaky, wholly unfamiliar. "You had better go. I--I am not safe. This damned fever has got into mybrain. "

She leaned against the door in silence. Her physical strength was comingback to her, but yet she could not move, and she had no words to speak. He seemed to have reft from her every faculty of thought and feelingsave a burning sense of shame. By his violence he had broken down allher defences. She seemed to have lost both the power and the will toresist. She remained speechless while the dreadful seconds crept away. 

He turned round upon her at length suddenly, almost with a movement ofexasperation. And then something that he saw checked him. He stoodsilent, as if not knowing how to proceed. 

Across the room their eyes met and held for the passage of manythrobbing seconds. Then slowly a change came over Monck. He turned backto the table and deliberately picked up the revolver that lay there. 

She watched him fascinated. Over his shoulder he spoke. "You will thinkme mad. Perhaps it is the most charitable conclusion you could come to. But I fully realize that when a thing is beyond an apology, it is aninsult to offer one. The key of the door is under the pillow on thebed. Perhaps you will not mind finding it for yourself. "

He sat down with the words in a heavy, dogged fashion, holding therevolver dangling between his knees. There was grim despair in hisattitude; his look was that of a man utterly spent. It came to Stella atthat moment that the command of the situation had devolved upon her, andwith it a heavier responsibility than she had ever before been calledupon to bear. 

She put her own weakness from her with a resolution born of expediency, for the need for strength was great. She crossed the room to the bed, felt for and found the key, returned to the door and inserted it in thelock. Then she paused. 

He had not moved. He was not watching her. He sat as one sunk deep indejection, bowed beneath a burden that crushed him to the earth. Butthere was even in his abasement a certain terrible patience that sent anicy misgiving to her heart. She did not dare to leave him so. 

It needed all the strength she could muster to approach him, but shecompelled herself at last. She came to him. She stood before him. 

"Captain Monck!" she said. 

Her voice sounded small and frightened even in her own ears. Sheclenched her hands with the effort to be strong. 

He scarcely stirred. His eyes remained downcast. He spoke no word. 

She bent a little. "Captain Monck, if you have fever, you had better goto bed. "

He moved slightly, influenced possibly by the increasing steadiness ofher voice. But still he did not look at her or speak. 

She saw that his hold upon the revolver had tightened to a grip, and, prompted by an inner warning that she could not pause to question, shebent lower and laid her hand upon his arm. "Please give that to me!" shesaid. 

He started at her touch; he almost recoiled. "Why?" he said. 

His voice was harsh and strained, even savage. But the needed strengthhad come to Stella, and she did not flinch. 

"You have no use for it just now, " she said. "Please be sensible and letme have it!"

"Sensible!" he said. 

His eyes sought hers suddenly, involuntarily, and she had a sense ofshock which she was quick to control; for they held in their depths thetorment of hell. 

"You are wrong, " he said, and the deadly intention of his voice made herquiver afresh. "I have a use for it. At least I shall have--presently. There are one or two things to be attended to first. "

It was then that a strange and new authority came upon Stella, as if anunknown force had suddenly inspired her. She read his meaning beyond alldoubting, and without an instant's hesitation she acted. 

"Captain Monck, " she said, "you have made a mistake. You have donenothing that is past forgiveness. You must take my word for that, forjust now you are ill and not in a fit state to judge for yourself. Nowplease give me that thing, and let me do what I can to help you!"

Practical and matter-of-fact were her words. She marvelled at herselfeven as she stooped and laid a steady hand upon the weapon he held. Heraction was purposeful, and he relinquished it. The misery in his eyesgave place to a dumb curiosity. 

"Now, " Stella said, "get to bed, and I will bring you some of Tommy'squinine. "

She turned from him, revolver in hand, but paused and in a moment turnedback. 

"Captain Monck, you heard what I said, didn't you? You will go straightto bed?"

Her voice held a hint of pleading, despite its insistence. Hestraightened himself in his chair. He was still looking at her with anodd wonder in his eyes--wonder that was mixed with a very unusual touchof reverence. 

"I will do--whatever you wish, " he said. 

"Thank you, " said Stella. "Then please let me find you in bed when Icome back!"

She turned once more to go, went to the door and opened it. From thethreshold she glanced back. 

He was on his feet, gazing after her with the eyes of a man in atrance. 

She lifted her hand. "Now remember!" she said, and with that passedquietly out, closing the door behind her. 

Her brain was in a seething turmoil and her heart was leaping within herlike a wild thing suddenly caged. But, very strangely, all fear haddeparted from her. 

Only a brief interval before, she had found herself wishing that thedecision of her life's destiny had not rested entirely with herself. Itseemed to her that a great revelation had been vouchsafed between theamazing present and those past moments of troubled meditation. And sheknew now that it did not. 

CHAPTER VII

SERVICE RENDERED

The news that Monck was down with the fever brought both the Colonel andMajor Ralston early to the bungalow on the following morning. 

They found Stella and the ever-faithful Peter in charge of bothpatients. Tommy was better though weak. Monck was in a high fever anddelirious. 

Stella was in the latter's room, for he would not suffer her out of hissight. She alone seemed to have any power to control him, and Ralstonnoted the fact with astonishment. 

"There's some magic about you, " he observed in his blunt fashion. "Areyou going to take on this job? It's no light one but you'll probably doit better than any one else. "

It was a tacit invitation, and Stella knowing how widespread was thesickness that infected the station, accepted it without demur. 

"It rather looks as if it were my job, doesn't it?" she said. "I amwilling, anyway to do my best. "

Ralston looked at her with a gleam of approval, but the Colonel drew heraside to remonstrate. 

"It's not fit for you. You'll be ill yourself. If Ralston weren't nearlyat his wit's end he'd never dream of allowing it. "

But Stella heard the protest with a smile. "Believe me, I am only tooglad to be able to do something useful for a change, " she assured him. "As to being ill myself, I will promise not to behave so badly as that. "

"You're a brick, my dear, " said Colonel Mansfield. "I wish there weremore like you. Mind you take plenty of quinine!" With which piece offatherly advice he left her with the determination to keep an eye on herand see that Ralston did not work her too hard. 

Stella, however, had no fears on her own account. She went to her taskresolute and undismayed, feeling herself actually indispensable foralmost the first time in her life. Her influence upon Monck was beyonddispute. She alone possessed the power to calm him in his wildestmoments, and he never failed to recognize her or to control himself to acertain extent in her presence. 

The attack was a sharp one, and for a while Ralston was more uneasy thanhe cared to admit. But Monck's constitution was a good one, and afterthree days of acute illness the fever began to subside. Tommy was bythat time making good progress, and Stella, who till then had snatchedher rest when and how she could, gave her charge into Peter's keepingand went to bed for the first time since her arrival at Kurrumpore. 

Till she actually lay down she did not realize how utterly worn out shewas, or how little the odd hours of sleep that she had been able tosecure had sufficed her. But as she laid her head upon the pillow, slumber swept upon her on soundless wings. She slept almost before shehad time to appreciate the exquisite comfort of complete repose. 

That slumber of hers lasted for many hours. She had given Peter expressinjunctions to awake her in good time in the morning, and she restedsecure in the confidence that he would obey her orders. But it was thelight of advancing evening that filled the room when at last she openedher eyes. 

There had come a break in the rain, and a bar of misty sunshine hadpenetrated a chink in the green blinds and lay golden across the Indianmatting on the floor. She lay and gazed at it with a bewildered sense ofuncertainty as to her whereabouts. She felt as if she had returned froma long journey, and for a time her mind dwelt hazily upon the Himalayanparadise from which she had been so summarily cast forth. Vague figuresflitted to and fro through her brain till finally one in particularoccupied the forefront of her thoughts. She found herself recallingevery unpleasant detail of the old Kashmiri beggar who had lured RalphDacre from her side on that last fateful night. The old question arosewithin her and would not be stifled. Had the man murdered and robbed himere flinging him down to the torrent that had swept his body away? Thewonder tormented her as of old, but with renewed intensity. She hadawaked with the conviction strong upon her that the man was not faraway, that she had seen him recently, and that Everard Monck had seenhim also. 

That brought her thoughts very swiftly to the present, to Monck'sillness and dependence upon her, and in a flash to the realization thatshe had spent nearly the whole day as well as the night in sleep. Inkeen dismay she started from her bed and began a rapid toilet. 

A quarter of an hour later she heard Peter's low, discreet knock at thedoor, and bade him enter. He came in with a tea-tray, smiling upon herwith such tender solicitude that she had it not in her heart to expressany active annoyance with him. 

"Oh, Peter, you should have called me hours ago!" was all she found tosay. 

He set down the tray with a deep salaam. "But the captain _sahib_ wouldnot permit me, " he said. 

"He is better?" Stella asked quickly. 

"He is much better, my _mem-sahib_. The doctor _sahib_ smiled upon himonly this afternoon and told him he was a damn' fraud. So my _mem-sahib_may set her mind at rest. "

Obviously the term constituted a high compliment in Peter's estimationand the evident satisfaction that it afforded to Stella seemed toconfirm the impression. He retired looking as well pleased as Stella hadever seen him. 

She finished dressing as speedily as possible, ate a hasty meal, andhastened to Tommy's room. To her surprise she found it empty, but as sheturned on the threshold the sound of her brother's laugh came to herthrough the passage. Evidently Tommy was visiting his fellow sufferer. 

With a touch of anxiety as to Monck's fitness to receive a visitor, sheturned in the direction of the laugh. But at Monck's door she paused, constrained by something that checked her almost like a hand laid uponher. The blood ran up to her temples and beat through her brain. Shefound she could not enter. 

As she stood there hesitating, Monck's voice came to her, quiet andrational. She could not hear what he said, but Tommy's more impetuoustones cutting in were clearly audible. 

"Oh, rats, my dear fellow! Don't be so damn' modest! You're worth ascore of Dacres and you bet she knows it. "

Stella tingled from head to foot. In another moment she would havepassed swiftly on, but even as the impulse came to her it wasfrustrated. The door in front of her suddenly opened, and she was faceto face with Monck himself. 

He stood leaning slightly on the handle of the door. He was draped in along dressing-gown of Oriental silk that hung upon him dejectedly as ifit yearned for a stouter tenant. In it he looked leaner and taller thanhe had ever seemed to her before. He had a cigarette between his lips, but this he removed with a flicker of humour as he observed her glance. 

"Caught in the act, " he remarked. "Please come in!"

Something that was very far from humour impelled Stella to say quickly, "I hope you don't imagine I was eavesdropping. "

He looked sardonic for an instant. "No, I do not so far flatter myself, "he said. "I was referring to my cigarette. "

She entered, striving for dignity. Then as his attitude caught herattention she forgot herself and turned upon him in genuine dismay. "What are you doing out of bed? You know you are not fit for it. Oh, howwrong of you! Take my arm!"

He transferred his hand from the door to her shoulder, and she felt ittremble though his hold was strong. 

"May I not sit up to tea with you, nurse _sahib_?" he suggested, as shepiloted him firmly to the bedside. 

"Of course not, " she made answer. The consciousness of his weakness hadfully restored her confidence and her authority. "Besides, I have hadmine. Tommy, you too! It is too bad, I shall never dare to close my eyesagain. "

At this point Monck laughed so suddenly and boyishly that she found itutterly impossible to continue her reproaches. He humbly apologized ashe subsided upon the bed, and turning to Tommy who, fully dressed, wasreclining at his ease in a deck-chair by its side said with a smile, "You get back to your own compartment, my son. It isn't good for me tohave two people in the room with me at the same time. And your sisterwants to take my pulse undisturbed. "

"Or listen to your heart?" suggested Tommy irreverently as he rose. 

"Turn him out!" said Monck, leaning luxuriously upon the pillows thatStella arranged for him. 

Tommy laughed as he sauntered away, pulling the door carelessly afterhim but recalled by Monck to shut it. 

A sudden silence followed his departure. Stella was at the window, looping back the curtains. The vague sunlight still smote across thedripping compound; the whole plain was smoking like a mighty cauldron. Stella finished her task and stood still. 

Across the silence came Monck's voice. "Aren't you going to give me mymedicine?"

She turned slowly round. "I think you are nearly equal to doctoringyourself now, " she said. 

He was lying raised on his elbow, his eyes, intent and searching, fixedupon her. Abruptly, in a different tone, he spoke. "In other words, quitfooling and play the game!" he said. "All right, I will--to the best ofmy ability. First of all, may I tell you something that Ralston said tome this morning?"

"Certainly. " Stella's voice sounded constrained and formal. She remainedwith her back to the window; for some reason she did not want him to seeher face too clearly. 

"It was only this, " said Monck. "He said that I had you to thank forpulling me through this business, that but for you I should probablyhave gone under. Ralston isn't given to saying that sort of thing. So--if you will allow me--I should like to thank you for the trouble youhave taken and for the service rendered. "

"Please don't!" Stella said. "After all, it was no more than you did forTommy, nor so much. " She spoke nervously, avoiding his look. 

The shadow of a smile crossed Monck's face. "I chance to be rather fondof Tommy, " he said, "so my motive was more or less a selfish one. Butyou had not that incentive, so I should be all the more grateful. I amafraid I have given you a lot of trouble. Have you found me verydifficult to manage?"

He put the question suddenly, almost imperiously. Stella was consciousof a momentary surprise. There was something in the tone rather than thewords that puzzled her. She hesitated over her reply. 

"You have?" said Monck. "That means I have been very unruly. Do you mindtelling me what happened on the night I was taken ill?"

She felt a burning blush rush up to her face and neck before she couldcheck it. It was impossible to attempt to hide her distress from him. She forced herself to speak before it overwhelmed her. "I would rathernot discuss it or think of it. You were not yourself, and I--and I--"

"And you?" said Monck, his voice suddenly sunk very low. 

She commanded herself with a supreme effort. "I wish to forget it, " shesaid with firmness. 

He was silent for a moment or two. She began to wonder if it would bepossible to make her escape before he could pursue the subject further. And then he spoke, and she knew that she must remain. 

"You are very generous, " he said, "more generous than I deserve. Will ithelp matters at all if I tell you that I would give all I have to beable to forget it too, or to believe that the thing I remember was justone of the wild delusions of my brain?"

His voice was deep and sincere. In spite of herself she was moved by it. She came forward to his side. "The past is past, " she said, and gave himher hand. 

He took it and held it, looking at her in his straight, inscrutable way. "True, most gracious!" he said. "But I haven't quite done with it yet. Will you hear me a moment longer? You have of your goodness pardoned myoutrageous behaviour, so I make no further allusion to that, except totell you that I had been tempted to try a native drug which in itseffects was worse than the fever pure and simple. But there is one pointwhich only you can make clear. How was it you came to seek me out thatnight?"

His grasp upon her hand was reassuring though she felt the quiver ofphysical weakness in its hold. It was the grasp of a friend, and herembarrassment began to fall away from her. 

"I came, " she said, "because I had been startled. I had no idea you wereanywhere near. I was really investigating the verandah because of--ofsomething I had seen, when the light from this window attracted me. Ithought possibly someone had broken in. "

"Will you tell me what startled you?" Monck said. 

She looked at him. "It was a man--an old native beggar. I only saw himfor a moment. I was in Tommy's room, and he came and looked in at me. You--you must have seen him too. You were talking very excitedly abouthim. You threatened to shoot him. "

"Was that how you came to deprive me of my revolver?" questioned Monck. 

She coloured again vividly. "No, I thought you were going to shootyourself. I will give it back to you presently. "

"When you consider that I can be safely trusted with it?" he suggested, with his brief smile. "But tell me some more about this mysterious oldbeggar of yours! What was he like?"

She hesitated momentarily. "I only had a very fleeting glimpse of him. Ican't tell you what he was really like. But--he reminded me of someoneI never want to think of or suffer myself to think of again if I canhelp it. "

"Who?" said Monck. 

His voice was quiet, but it held insistence. She felt as if his eyespierced her, compelling her reply. 

"A horrible old native--a positive nightmare of a man--whom I shallalways regard as in some way the cause of my husband's death. "

In the pause that followed her words, Monck's hand left hers. He laystill looking at her, but with that steely intentness that told hernothing. She could not have said whether he were vitally interested inthe matter or not when he spoke again. 

"You think that he was murdered then?"

A sharp shudder went through her. "I am very nearly convinced of it, "she said. "But I shall never know for certain now. "

"And you imagine that the murderer can have followed you here?" hepursued. 

"No! Oh no!" Hastily she made answer. "It is ridiculous of course. Hewould never be such a fool as to do that. It was only my imagination. Isaw the figure at the window and was reminded of him. "

"Are you sure the figure at the window was not imagination too?" saidMonck. "Forgive my asking! Such things have happened. "

"Oh, I know, " Stella said. "It is a question I have been asking myselfever since. But, you know--" she smiled faintly--"I had no fever thatnight. Besides, I fancy you saw him too. "

His smile met hers. "I saw many things that night as they were not. Andyou also were overwrought and very tired. Perhaps you had had anexciting supper!"

She saw that he meant to turn the subject away from her husband's death, and a little thrill of gratitude went through her. He had seen howreluctant she was to speak of it. She followed his lead with relief. 

"Perhaps--perhaps, " she said. "We will say so anyhow. And now, do youknow, I think you had better have your tea and rest. You have done a lotof talking, and you will be getting feverish again if I let you go on. Iwill send Peter in with it. "

He raised one eyebrow with a wry expression. "Must it be Peter?" hesaid. 

She relented. "I will bring it myself if you will promise not to talk. "

"Ah!" he said. "And if I promise that--will you promise me one thingtoo?"

She paused. "What is that?"

His eyes met hers, direct but baffling. "Not. To run away from me, " hesaid. 

The quick blood mounted again in her face. She stood silent. 

He lifted an urgent hand. "Stella, in heaven's name, don't be afraid ofme!"

She laid her hand again in his. She could not do otherwise. She wantedto beg him to say nothing further, to let her go in peace. But no wordswould come. She stood before him mute. 

And--perhaps he knew what was in her mind--Monck was silent also afterthat single earnest appeal of his. He held her hand for a few seconds, and then very quietly let it go. She knew by his action that he wouldrespect her wish for the time at least and say no more. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE TRUCE

Tommy was in a bad temper with everyone--a most unusual state ofaffairs. The weather was improving every day; the rains were nearlyover. He was practically well again, too well to be sent to Bhulwana onsick leave, as Ralston brutally told him; but it was not this fact thathad upset his internal equilibrium. He did not want sick leave, andbluntly said so. 

"Then what the devil do you want?" said Ralston, equally blunt and readyto resent irritation from one who in his opinion was too highly favouredof the gods to have any reasonable grounds for complaint. 

Tommy growled an inarticulate reply. It was not his intention to confidein Ralston whatever his grievance. But Ralston, not to be frustrated, carried the matter to Monck, then on the high road to recovery. 

"What in thunder is the matter with the young ass?" he demanded. "Hegets more lantern-jawed and obstreperous every day. "

"Leave him to me!" said Monck. "Discharge him as cured! I'll managehim. "

"But that's just what he isn't, " grumbled Ralston. "He ought to be well. So far as I can make out, he is well. But he goes about looking like asick fly and stinging before you touch him. "

"Leave him to me!" Monck said again. 

That afternoon as he and Tommy lounged together on the verandah afterthe lazy fashion of convalescents, he turned to the boy in his abruptfashion. 

"Look here, Tommy!" he said. "What are you making yourself soconspicuously unpleasant for? It's time you pulled up. "

Tommy turned crimson. "I?" he stammered. "Who says so? Stella?"

There was the suspicion of a smile about Monck's grim mouth as he madereply. "No; not Stella, though she well might. I've heard you beingbeastly rude to her more than once. What's the matter with you? Want akicking, eh?"

Tommy hunched himself in his wicker chair with his chin on his chest. "No, want to kick, " he said in a savage undertone. 

Monck laughed briefly. He was standing against a pillar of the verandah. He turned and sat down unexpectedly on the arm of Tommy's chair. "Who doyou want to kick?" he said. 

Tommy glanced at him and was silent. 

"Significant!" commented Monck. He put his hand with very unwontedkindness upon the lad's shoulder. "What do you want to kick me for, Tommy?" he asked. 

Tommy shrugged the shoulder under his hand. "If you don't know, I can'ttell you, " he said gruffly. 

Monck's fingers closed with quiet persistence. "Yes, you can. Out withit!" he said. 

But Tommy remained doggedly silent. 

Several seconds passed. Then very suddenly Monck raised his hand andsmote him hard on the back. 

"Damn!" said Tommy, straightening involuntarily. 

"That's better, " said Monck. "That'll do you good. Don't curl up again!You're getting disgracefully round-shouldered. Like to have a bout withthe gloves?"

There was not a shade of ill-feeling in his voice. Tommy turned roundupon him with a smile as involuntary as his exclamation had been. 

"What a brute you are, Monck! You have such a beastly trick of putting afellow in the wrong. "

"You are in the wrong, " asserted Monck. "I want to get you out of it ifI can. What's the grievance? What have I done?"

Tommy hesitated for a moment, then finally reached up and gripped thehand upon his shoulder. "Monck! I say, Monck!" he said boyishly. "I feelsuch a cur to say it. But--but--" he broke off abruptly. "I'm damned ifI can say it!" he decided dejectedly. 

Monck's fingers suddenly twisted and closed upon his. "What a funnylittle ass you are, Tommy!" he said. 

Tommy brightened a little. "It's infernally difficult--taking you totask, " he explained blushing a still fierier red. "You'll never speak tome again after this. "

Monck laughed. "Yes, I shall. I shall respect you for it. Get on withit, man! What's the trouble?"

With immense effort Tommy made reply. "Well, it's pretty beastly to haveto ask any fellow what his intentions are with regard to his sister, butyou pretty nearly told me yours. "

"Then what more do you want?" questioned Monck. 

Tommy made a gesture of helplessness. "Damn it, man! Don't you know sheis making plans to go Home?"

"Well?" said Monck. 

Tommy faced round. "I say, like a good chap, --you've practically forcedthis, you know--you're not going to--to let her go?"

Monck's eyes looked back straight and hard. He did not speak for amoment; then, "You want to know my intentions, Tommy, " he said. "Youshall. Your sister and I are observing a truce for the present, but itwon't last for ever. I am making plans for a move myself. I am going tolive at the Club. "

"Is that going to help?" demanded Tommy bluntly. 

Monck looked sardonic. "We mustn't offend the angels, you know, Tommy, "he said. 

Tommy made a sound expressive of gross irreverence. "Oh, that's it, isit? Now we know where we are. I've been feeling pretty rotten about it, I can tell you. "

"You always were an ass, weren't you?" said Monck, getting up. 

Tommy got up too, giving himself an impatient shake. He pushed anapologetic hand through Monck's arm. "I can't expect ever to get evenwith a swell like you, " he said humbly, Monck looked at him. Something in the boy's devotion seemed to move him, for his eyes were very kindly though his laugh was ironic. "You'll havean almighty awakening one of these days, my son, " he said. "By the way, if we are going to be brothers, you had better call me by my Christianname. "

"By Jove, I will, " said Tommy eagerly. "And if there is anything I cando, old chap--anything under the sun--"

"I'll let you know, " said Monck. 

So, like the lifting of a thunder cloud, Tommy's very unwonted fit oftemper merged into a mood of great benignity and Ralston complained nomore. 

Monck took up his abode at the Club before the brief winter seasonbrought the angels flitting back from Bhulwana to combine pleasure withduty at Kurrumpore. 

Stella accepted his departure without comment, missing him when goneafter a fashion which she would have admitted to none. She did notwholly understand his attitude, but Tommy's serenity of demeanour madeher somewhat suspicious; for Tommy was transparent as the day. 

Mrs. Ralston's return made her life considerably easier. They took uptheir friendship exactly where they had left it and found it whollysatisfactory. When Lady Harriet Mansfield made her stately appearance, Stella's position was assured. No one looked askance at her any longer. Even Mrs. Burton's criticism was limited to a strictly secret smile. 

Netta Ermsted was the last to leave Bhulwana. She returned nervous andfretful, accompanied by Tessa whose joy over rejoining her friends wasas patent as her mother's discontent. Tessa had a great deal to say indisparagement of the Rajah of Markestan, and said it so often and withsuch emphasis that at last Captain Ermsted's patience gave way and heforbade all mention of the man under penalty of a severe slapping. WhenTessa had ignored the threat for the third time he carried it out withsuch thoroughness that even Netta was startled into remonstrance. 

"You are quite right to keep the child in order, " she said. "But youneedn't treat her like that. I call it brutal. "

"You can call it what you like, " said Ermsted. "I did it quite as muchfor your benefit as for hers. "

Netta tossed her head. "I'm not a sentimental mother, " she observed. "You won't punish me in that way. I object to a commotion, that's all. "

He took her by the shoulder. "Do you?" he said. "Then I advise you to bemighty careful, for, I warn you, my blood is up. "

She made a face at him, albeit there was a quality of menace in hishold. "Are you going to treat me as you have just treated Tessa?"

His teeth were clenched upon his lower lip. "Don't be a little devil, Netta!" he said. 

She snapped her fingers. "Then don't you be a big fool, most nobleRichard! It doesn't pay to bully a woman. She can always get her ownback one way or another. Remember that!"

He gripped her suddenly by both arms. "By Heaven!" he said passionately. "I'll do worse than beat you if you dare to trifle with me!"

She tried to laugh, but his look frightened her. She turned as white asthe muslin wrap she wore. "Richard--Dick--don't, " she gasped helplessly. 

He held her locked to him. "You've gone too far, " he said. 

"I haven't, Dick! I haven't!" she protested. "Dick, I swear to you--Ihave never--I have never--"

He stopped the words upon her lips with his own, but his kiss wasterrible. She shrank from it trembling, appalled. 

In a moment he let her go, and she sank upon her couch, hiding herquivering face with convulsive weeping. 

"You are cruel! You are cruel!" she sobbed. 

He remained beside her, looking down at her till some of the sternnesspassed from his face. 

He bent at last and touched her. "I'm not cruel, " he said. "I'm just inearnest, that's all. You be careful for the future! There's a bit of thedevil in me too when I'm goaded. "

She drew herself away from him, half-frightened still and half petulant. "You used to be--ever so much nicer than you are now, " she said, keepingher face averted. 

He answered her sombrely as he turned away, "I used to have a wife thatI honoured before all creation. "

She sprang to her feet. "Dick! How can you be so horrid?"

He shrugged his shoulders as he walked to the door. "I was--a big fool, "he said very bitterly. 

The door closed upon him. Netta stood staring at it, tragic andtear-stained. 

Suddenly she stamped her foot and whirled round in a rage. "I won't betreated like a naughty child! I won't--I won't! I'll write to my ArabianKnight--I'll write now--and tell him how wretched I am! If Dick objectsto our friendship I'll just leave him, that's all. I was a donkey everto marry him. I always knew we shouldn't get on. "

She paused, listening, half-fearing, half-hoping, that she had heardhim returning. Then she heard his voice in the next room. He was talkingto Tessa. 

She set her lips and went to her writing-table. "Oh yes, he can make itup with his child when he knows he has been brutal; but never a singlekind word to his wife--not one word!"

She took up a pen with fingers that trembled with indignation, and beganto write. 

CHAPTER IX

THE OASIS

For two months Tommy possessed his impulsive soul in patience. For twomonths he watched Monck go his impassive and inscrutable way, asking nofurther question. The gaieties of the station were in full swing. Christmas was close at hand. 

Stella was making definite plans for departure in the New Year. Shecould not satisfy herself with an idle life, though Tommy vehementlyopposed the idea of her going. Monck never opposed it. He listenedsilently when she spoke of it, sometimes faintly smiling. She often sawhim. He came to the Green Bungalow in Tommy's company at all hours ofthe day. She met him constantly at the Club, and he never failed to cometo her side there and by some means known only to himself to banish thecrowd of subalterns who were wont to gather round her. He asserted noclaim, but the claim existed and was mutely recognized. He never spoketo her intimately. He never attempted to pass the bounds of ordinaryfriendship. Only very rarely did he make her aware that her company wasa pleasure to him. But the fact remained that she was the only womanthat he ever sought, and the tongues of all the rest were busy inconsequence. 

As for Stella, she still told herself that she would escape with herfreedom. He would speak, she was convinced, before she left. She evensometimes told herself that after what had passed between them, it wasalmost incumbent upon him to speak. But she believed that he wouldaccept her refusal philosophically, possibly even with relief. Sherestrained herself forcibly from dwelling upon the thought of him. Againand again she reminded herself that he trod the way of ambition. Hisheart was given to his work, and a man may not serve two masters. Hecared for her, probably, but in a calm, judicial fashion that couldnever satisfy her. If she married him she would come second--and a verypoor second--to his profession. And so she did not mean to marry him. And so she checked the fevered memory of passionate kisses that hadburned her to the soul, of arms that had clasped and held her by a forcecolossal. That had been only the primitive man in him, escaped for themoment beyond his control--the primitive man which he had well-nighsucceeded in stifling with the bonds of his servitude. Had he not toldher that he would have given all he had to forget that single wild lapseinto savagery? She was sure that he despised himself for it. He wouldnever for an instant suffer such an impulse again. He did not reallylove her. It was not in him to love any woman. He would make her aformal offer of marriage, and when she had refused him he would dismissthe matter from his mind and return to his work undisturbed. 

So she schooled herself to make her plans, leaving him out of thereckoning, telling herself ever that her newly restored freedom was toodear ever to be sacrificed again. In Mrs. Ralston's company she attendedsome of the social gatherings of the station, but she took no keenpleasure in them. She disliked Lady Harriet, she distrusted Mrs. Burton, and more often than not she remained away. The coming Christmasfestivities did not attract her. She held aloof till Tommy who was inthe thick of everything suddenly and vehemently demanded her presence. 

"It's ridiculous to be so stand-offish, " he maintained. "Don't let 'emthink you're afraid of 'em! Come anyway to the moonlight picnic atKhanmulla on Christmas Eve! It's going to be no end of a game. "

Stella smiled a little. "Do you know, Tommy, I think I'd rather go tobed?"

"Absurd!" declared Tommy. "You used to be much more sporting. "

"I wasn't a widow in those days, " Stella said. 

"What rot! What damn' rot!" cried Tommy wrathfully. 

"There is no altering the fact, " said Stella. 

He left her, fuming. 

That evening as she sat on the Club verandah with Mrs. Ralston, watchingsome tennis, Monck came up behind her and stood against the wall smokinga cigarette. 

He did not speak for some time and after a word of greeting Stellaturned back to the play. But presently Mrs. Ralston got up and wentaway, and after an interval Monck came silently forward and took thevacant seat. 

Tommy was among the players. His play was always either surprisinglybrilliant or amazingly bad, and on this particular evening he waswinning all the honours. 

Stella was joining in the general applause after a particularly finestroke when suddenly Monck's voice spoke at her side. 

"Why don't you take a hand sometimes instead of always looking on?"

The question surprised her. She glanced at him in momentaryembarrassment, met his straight look, and smiled. 

"Perhaps I am lazy. "

"That isn't the reason, " he said. "Why do you lead a hermit's life? Doyou follow your own inclination in so doing? Or are you merely provingyourself a slave to an unwritten law?"

His voice was curt; it held mastery. But yet she could not resent it, for behind it was a masked kindness which deprived it of offence. 

She decided to treat the question lightly. "Perhaps a little of both, "she said. "Besides, it seems scarcely worth while to try to get intothe swim now when I am leaving so soon. "

He made an abrupt movement which seemed to denote suppressed impatience. "You are too young to say that, " he said. 

She laughed a little. "I don't feel young. I think life moves faster intropical countries. I have lived years since I have been here, and I amglad of a rest. "

He was silent for a space; then again abruptly he returned to thecharge. "You're not going to waste all the best of your life over amemory, are you? The finest man in the world isn't worth that. "

She felt the colour rise in her face as she made reply. "I hope I am notgoing to waste my life at all. Is it a waste not to spend it in afeverish round of social pleasures? If so, I do not think you are in aposition to condemn me. "

She saw his brief smile for an instant. "My life is occupied with otherthings, " he said. "But I don't lead a hermit's existence. I am going tothe officers' picnic at Khanmulla on the twenty-fourth for instance. "

"Being a case of 'Needs must', " suggested Stella. 

"By no means. " Monck leaned forward to light another cigarette. "I amgoing for a particular purpose. If that purpose is not fulfilled--" hepaused a moment and she felt his eyes upon her again--"I shall comestraight back, " he ended with a certain doggedness of determination thatdid not escape her. 

Stella's gaze was fixed upon the court below her and she kept it there, but she saw nothing of the game. Her heart was beating oddly in leapsand jerks. She felt curiously as if she were under the influence of anelectric battery; every nerve and every vein seemed to be tingling. 

He had not asked a question, yet she felt that in some fashion he hadmade it incumbent upon her to speak in answer. In the silence thatfollowed his words she was aware of an insistence that would not bedenied. She tried to put it from her, but could not. In the end, morethan half against her will, she yielded. 

"I suppose I shall have to go, " she said, "if only to pacify Tommy. "

"A very good and sufficient reason, " commented Monck enigmatically. 

He lingered on beside her for a while, but nothing further of anintimate nature passed between them. She felt that he had gained hisobjective and would say no more. The truce between them was to beobserved until the psychological moment arrived to break it, and thatmoment would occur some time on Christmas Eve in the moonlit solitudesof Khanmulla. 

Later she reflected that perhaps it was as well to go and get it over. She could not deny him his opportunity, and it would not take long--shewas sure it would not take long to convince him that they were betteras they were. 

Had he been younger, less wedded to his work, less the slave of hisambition, things might have been different. Had she never been marriedto Ralph Dacre, never known the bondage of those few strange weeks, shemight have been more ready to join her life to his. 

But Fate had intervened between them, and their paths now lay apart. Herealized it as well as she did. He would not press her. Their eyes wereopen, and if the oasis in the desert had seemed desirable to either fora space, yet each knew that it was no abiding-place. 

Their appointed ways lay in the waste beyond, diverging ever more andmore, till presently even the greenness of that oasis in which they hadmet together would be no more to either than a half-forgotten dream. 

CHAPTER X

THE SURRENDER

The moon was full on Christmas Eve. It shone in such splendour that thewhole world was transformed into a fairyland of black and silver. Stellastood on the verandah of the Green Bungalow looking forth into thedazzling night with a tremor at her heart. The glory of it was in asense overwhelming. It made her feel oddly impotent, almost afraid, asif some great power menaced her. She had never felt the ruthlessness ofthe East more strongly than she felt it that night. But the druggedfeeling that had so possessed her in the mountains was wholly absentfrom her now. She felt vividly alive, almost painfully conscious of thequick blood pulsing through her veins. She was aware of an intenselonging to escape even while the magic of the night yet drew herirresistibly. Deep in her heart there lurked an uncertainty which shecould not face. Up to that moment she had been barely aware of itsexistence, but now she felt it stirring, and strangely she was afraid. Was it the call of the East, the wonder of the moonlight? Or was itsome greater thing yet, such as had never before entered into her life?She could not say; but her face was still firmly set towards the goal ofliberty. Whatever was in store for her, she meant to extricate herself. She meant to cling to her freedom at all costs. When next she stood uponthat verandah, the ordeal she had begun to dread so needlessly, sounreasonably, would be over, and she would have emerged triumphant. 

So she told herself, even while the shiver of apprehension which shecould not control went through her, causing her to draw her wrap moreclosely about her though there was nought but a pleasant coolness in thesoft air that blew across the plain. 

She and Tommy were to drive with the Ralstons to the ruined palace inthe jungle of Khanmulla where the picnic was to take place. She hadnever seen it, but had heard it described as the most romantic spot inMarkestan. It had been the site of a fierce battle in some bye-gone age, and its glories had departed. For centuries it had lain deserted andcrumbling. Yet some of its ancient beauty remained. Its marble floorsand walls of carved stone were not utterly obliterated though only owlsand flying-foxes made it their dwelling-place. Natives regarded it withsuperstitious awe and seldom approached it. But Europeans all lookedupon it as the most beautiful corner within reach, and had it beennearer to Kurrumpore, it would have been a far more frequentedplayground than it was. 

The hoot of a motor-horn broke suddenly upon the silence, and Stellastarted. It was the horn of Major Ralston's little two-seater; she knewit well. But they had not proposed using it that night. She and Tommywere to accompany them in a waggonette. The crunching of wheels andthrob of the engine at the gate told her it was stopping. Then theRalstons had altered their plans, unless--Something suddenly leapt upwithin her. She was conscious of a curious constriction at the throat, asense of suffocation. The fuss and worry of the engine died down intosilence, and in a moment there came the sound of a man's feet enteringthe compound. Standing motionless, with hands clenched against hersides, she gazed forth. A tall, straight figure was coming towards herbetween the whispering tamarisks. It was not Major Ralston. He walkedwith a slouch, and this man's gait was firm and purposeful. He came upto the verandah-steps with unfaltering determination. He was lookingfull at her, and she knew that she stood revealed in the marvellousIndian moonlight. He mounted the steps with the same absoluteself-assurance that yet held nought of arrogance. His face remained inshadow, but she did not need to see it. The reason of his coming wasproclaimed in every line, in every calm, unwavering movement. 

He came to her, and she waited there in the merciless moonlight; for shehad no choice. 

"I have come for you, " he said. 

The words were brief, but they thrilled her strangely. Her eyesfluttered and refused to meet his look. 

"The Ralstons are taking us, " she said. 

Her tone was cold, her bearing aloof. She was striving for self-control. He could not have known of the tumult within her. Yet he smiled. "Theyare taking Tommy, " he said. 

She heard the stubborn note in his voice and suddenly and completely thepower to resist went from her. 

She held out her hand to him with a curious gesture of appeal, "CaptainMonck, if I come with you--"

His fingers closed about her own. "If?" he said. 

She made a rather piteous attempt to laugh. "Really I don't want to, "she said. 

"Really?" said Monck. He drew a little nearer to her, still holding herhand. His grasp was firm and strong. "Really?" he said again. 

She stood in silence, for she could not give him any answer. 

He waited for a moment or two; then, "Stella, " he said, "are you afraidof me?"

She shook her head. Her lips had begun to tremble inexplicably. "No--no, " she said. 

"What then?" He spoke with a gentleness that she had never heard fromhim before. "Of yourself?"

She turned her face away from him. "I am afraid--of life, " she told himbrokenly. "It is like a great Wheel--a vast machinery. I have beencaught in it once--caught and crushed. Oh can't you understand?"

"Yes, " he said. 

Again for a space he was silent, his hand yet holding hers. There wassubtle comfort in his grasp. It held protection. 

"And so you want to run away from it?" he said at length. "Do you thinkthat's going to help you?"

She choked back a sob. "I don't know. I have no judgment. I don't trustmyself. "

"You believe in sincerity?" he said. "In being true to yourself?" Then, as she winced, "No, I don't want to go over old ground. We are talkingof present things. I'm not going to pester you, not going to ask you tomarry me even--" again she was aware of his smile though his speechsounded grim--"until you have honestly answered the question that youare trying to shirk. Perhaps you won't thank me for reminding you asecond time of a conversation that you and I once had on this very spot, but I must. I told you that I had been waiting for my turn. And you toldme that I had come--too late. "

He paused, but she did not speak. She was trembling from head to foot. 

He leaned towards her. "Stella, I'm not such a fool as to make the samemistake twice over. I'm not going to miss my turn a second time. I lovedyou then--though I had never flattered myself that I had a chance. Andmy love isn't the kind that burns and goes out. " His voice suddenlyquivered. "I don't know whether you have any use for it. You have beentoo discreet and cautious to betray yourself. Your heart has been aclosed book to me. But to-night--I am going to open that book. I havethe right, and you can't deny it to me. If you were queen of the wholeearth I should still have the right, because I love you, to ask you--asI ask you now--have you any love for me? There! I have done it. If youcan tell me honestly that I am nothing to you, that is the end. But ifnot--if not--" again she heard a deep vibration in his voice--"thendon't be afraid--in the name of Heaven! Marriage with me would not meanslavery. "

He stopped abruptly and turned from her. From the room behind them therecame a cheery hail. Tommy came tramping through. 

"Hullo, old chap! You, is it? Has Stella been attending to your comfort?Have you had a drink?"

Monck's answer had a sardonic note, "Your sister has been kindnessitself--as she always is. No drinks for me, thanks. I am just off inRalston's car to Khanmulla. " He turned deliberately back again toStella. "Will you come with me? Or will you go with Tommy--and theRalstons?"

There was neither anxiety nor persuasion in his voice. Tommy frownedover its utter lack of emotion. He did not think his friend was playinghis cards well. 

But to Stella that coolness had a different meaning. It stirred her toan impulse more headlong than at the moment she realized. 

"I will come with you, " she said. 

"Good!" said Monck simply, and stood back for her to pass. 

She went by him without a glance. She felt as if the wild throbbing ofher heart would choke her. He had spoken in such a fashion as she haddreamed that he could ever speak. He had spoken and she had not sent himaway. That was the thought that most disturbed her. Till that moment ithad seemed a comparatively easy thing to do. Her course had been clear. But he had appealed to that within her which could not be ignored. Hehad appealed to the inner truth of her nature, and she could not closeher ears to that. He asked her only to be true to herself. He had takenhis stand on higher ground than that on which she stood. He had noturged any plea on his own behalf. He had only urged her to be honest. And in so doing he had laid bare that ancient mistake of hers that haddevastated her life. He did not desire her upon the same terms as thoseupon which she had bestowed herself upon Ralph Dacre. He made thatabundantly clear. He did not ask her to subordinate her happiness tohis. He only asked for straight dealing from her, and she knew that heasked it as much for her sake as for his own. He would not seek to holdher if she did not love him. That was the great touchstone to which hehad brought her, and she knew that she must face the test. The masteryof his love compelled her. As he had freely asserted, he had theright--just because he was an honourable man and he loved herhonourably. 

But how far would that love of his carry him? She longed to know. It wasnot the growth of a brief hour's passion. That at least she knew. Itwould not burn and go out. It would endure; somehow she realized thatnow past disputing. But was it first and greatest with him? Were hischerished career, his ambition, of small account beside it? Was hewilling to do sacrifice to it? And if so, how great a sacrifice was heprepared to offer?

She yearned to ask him as he sped her in silence through the chequeredmoonlight of the Khanmulla jungle. But some inner force restrained her. She feared to break the spell. 

The road was deserted, just as it had been on that dripping night whenshe had answered his summons to Tommy's sick bed. She recalled that wildrush through the darkness, his grim strength, his determination. Theiron of his will had seemed to compass her then. Was it the sameto-night? Had her freedom already been wrested from her? Was there to beno means of escape?

Through the jungle solitudes there came the call of an owl, weird anddesolate and lonely. Something in it pierced her with a curious pain. Was freedom then everything? Did she truly love the silence above all?

She drew her cloak closer about her. Was there something of a chill inthe atmosphere? Or was it the chill of the desert beyond the oasis thatawaited her?

They emerged from the thickest part of the jungle into a space oftangled shrubs that seemed fighting with each other for possession ofthe way. The road was rough, and Monck slackened speed. 

"We shall have to leave the car, " he said. "There is a track here thatleads to the ruined palace. It is only a hundred yards or so. We shallhave to do it on foot. "

They descended. The moonlight poured in a flood all about them. Theywere alone. 

Stella turned up the narrow path he indicated, but in a moment heovertook her. "Let me go first!" he said. 

He passed her with the words and walked ahead, holding the creepers backfrom her as she followed. 

She suffered him silently, with a strange sense of awe, almost as thoughshe trod holy ground. But the old feeling of trespass was wholly absent. She had no fear of being cast forth from this place that she was aboutto enter. 

The path began to widen somewhat and to ascend. In a few moments theycame upon a crumbling stonewall crossing it at right angles. 

Monck paused. "One way leads to the palace, the other to the temple, " hesaid. "Which shall we take?"

Stella faced him in the moonlight. She thought he looked stern. "Is notthe picnic to be at the palace?" she said. 

"Yes. " He answered her without hesitation. "You will find Lady Harrietand Co. There. The temple on the other hand is probably deserted. "

"Ah!" His meaning flashed upon her. She stood a second in indecision. Then "Is it far?" she said. 

She saw his faint smile for an instant. "A very long way--for you, " hesaid. 

"I can come back?" she said. 

"I shall not prevent you. " She heard the smile in his voice, andsomething within her thrilled in answer. 

"Let us go then!" she said. 

He turned without further words and led the way. 

They entered the shadow of the jungle once more. For a space the pathran beside the crumbling wall, then it diverged from it, winding darklyinto the very heart of the jungle. Monck walked without hesitation. Heevidently knew the place well. 

They came at length upon a second clearing, smaller than the first, andhere in the centre of a moonlit space there stood the ruined walls of alittle native temple or mausoleum. 

A flight of worn, marble steps led to the dark arch of the doorway. Monck stretched a hand to his companion, and they ascended side by side. A bubbling murmur of water came from within. It seemed to fill the placewith gurgling, gnomelike laughter. They entered and Monck stood still. 

For a space of many seconds he neither moved nor spoke. It was almost asif he were waiting for some signal. They looked forth into the moonlightthey had left through the cave-like opening. The air around them waschill and dank. Somewhere in the darkness behind them a frog croaked, and tiny feet scuttled and scrambled for a few moments and then werestill. 

Again Stella shivered, drawing her cloak more closely round her. "Whydid you bring me to this eerie place?" she said, speaking under herbreath involuntarily. 

He stirred as if her words aroused him from a reverie. "Are you afraid?"he said. 

"I should be--- by myself, " she made answer. "I don't think I like Indiaat too close quarters. She is so mysterious and so horribly ruthless. "

He passed over the last two sentences as though they had not beenuttered. "But you are not afraid with me?" he said. 

She quivered at something in his question. "I am not sure, " she said. "Isometimes think that you are rather ruthless too. "

"Do you know me well enough to say that?" he said. 

She tried to answer him lightly. "I ought to by this time. I have hadample opportunity. "

"Yes, " he said rather bitterly. "But you are prejudiced. You cling to apreconceived idea. If you love me--it is in spite of yourself. "

Something in his voice hurt her like the cry of a wounded thing. Shemade a quick, impulsive movement towards him. "Oh, but that is not so!"she said. "You don't understand. Please don't think anything so--so hardof me!"

"Are you sure it is not so?" he said. "Stella! Stella! Are you sure?"

The words pierced her afresh. She suddenly felt that she could bear nomore. "Oh, please!" she said. "Oh, please!" and laid a quivering handupon his arm. "You are making it very difficult for me. Don't yourealize how much better it would be for your own sake not to press meany further?"

"No!" he said; just the one word, spoken doggedly, almost harshly. Hishands were clenched and rigid at his sides. 

Almost instinctively she began to plead with him as one who pleads forfreedom. "Ah, but listen a moment! You have your life to live. Yourcareer means very much to you. Marriage means hindrance to a man likeyou. Marriage means loitering by the way. And there is no time toloiter. You have taken up a big thing, and you must carry it through. You must put every ounce of yourself into it. You must work like agalley slave. If you don't you will be--a failure. "

"Who told you that?" he demanded. 

She met the fierceness of his eyes unflinchingly. "I know it. Everyoneknows it. You have given yourself heart and soul to India, to theEmpire. Nothing else counts--or ever can count now--in the same way. Itis quite right that it should be so. You are a builder, and you mustfollow your profession. You will follow it to the end. And you will dogreat things, --immortal things. " Her voice shook a little. "But you mustkeep free from all hampering burdens, all private cares. Above all, youmust not think of marriage with a woman whose chief desire is to escapefrom India and all that India means, whose sympathies are utterly alienfrom her, and whose youth has died a violent death at her hands. Oh, don't you see the madness of it? Surely you must see!"

A quiver of deep feeling ran through her words. She had not meant to goso far, but she was driven, driven by a force that would not be denied. She wanted him to see the matter with her eyes. Somehow that seemedessential now. Things had gone so far between them. It was intolerablenow that he should misunderstand. 

But as she ceased to speak, she abruptly realized that the effect of herwords was other than she intended. He had listened to her with a rigidpatience, but as her words went into silence it seemed as if the ironwill by which till then he had held himself in check had suddenlysnapped. 

He stood for a second or two longer with an odd smile on his face andthat in his eyes which startled her into a momentary feeling that wasalmost panic; then with a single, swift movement he bent and caught herto him. 

"And you think that counts!" he said. "You think that anything on earthcounts--but this!"

His lips were upon hers as he ended, stopping all protest, allutterance. He kissed her hotly, fiercely, holding her so pressed thatabove the wild throbbing of her own heart she felt the deep, strong beatof his. His action was passionate and overwhelming. She would havewithstood him, but she could not; and there was that within her thatrejoiced, that exulted, because she could not. Yet as at last his lipsleft hers, she turned her face aside, hiding it from him that he mightnot see how completely he had triumphed. 

He laughed a little above her bent head; he did not need to see. "Stella, you and I have got to sink or swim together. If you won't havesuccess with me, then I will share your failure. "

She quivered at his words; she was clinging to him almost withoutknowing it. "Oh, no! Oh, no!" she said. 

His hand came gently upwards and lay upon her head. "My dear, that restswith you. I have sworn that marriage to me shall not mean bondage. IfIndia is any obstacle between us, India will go. "

"Oh, no!" she said again. "No, Everard! No!"

He bent his face to hers. His lips were on her hair. "You love me, Stella, " he said. 

She was silent, her breathing short, spasmodic, difficult. 

His cheek pressed her forehead. "Why not own it?" he said softly. "Isit--so hard?"

She lifted her face swiftly; her arms clasped his neck. "And if--if Ido, --will you let me go?" she asked him tremulously. 

The smile still hovered about his lips. "No, " he said. 

"It is madness, " she pleaded desperately. 

"It is--Kismet, " he made answer, and took her face between his handslooking deeply, steadily, into her eyes. "Your life is bound up withmine. You know it. Stella, you know it. "

She uttered a sob that yet was half laughter. "I have done my best, " shesaid. "Why are you so--so merciless?"

"You surrender?" he said. 

She gave herself to the drawing of his hands. "Have I any choice?"

"Not if you are honest, " he said. 

"Ah!" She coloured rather painfully. "I have at least been honest intrying to keep you from this--this big mistake. I know you will repentit. When this--fever is past, you will regret--oh, so bitterly. "

He set his jaw and all the grim strength of the man was suddenlyapparent. "Shall I tell you the secret of success?" he said abruptly. "It is just never to look back. It is the secret of happiness also, ifpeople only realized it. If you want to make the best of life, you'vegot to look ahead. I'm going to make you do that, Stella. You've beensitting mourning by the wayside long enough. "

She smiled almost in spite of herself, for the note of mastery in hisvoice was inexplicably sweet. "I've thought that myself, " she said. "ButI'm not going to let you patch up my life with yours. If this mustbe--and you are sure--you are sure that it must?"

"I have spoken, " he said. 

She faced him resolutely. "Then India shall have us both. Now I havespoken too. "

His face changed. The grimness became eagerness. "Stella, do you meanthat?" he said. "It's a big sacrifice--too big for you. "

Her eyes were shining as stars shine through a mist. She was drawing hishead downwards that her lips might reach his. "Oh, my darling, " shesaid, and the thrill of love triumphant was in her words, "nothing wouldbe--too big. It simply ceases to be a sacrifice--if it is done--for yourdear sake. "

Her lips met his upon the words, and in that kiss she gave him all shehad. It was the rich bestowal of a woman's full treasury, than which itmay be there is nought greater on earth. 

PART III

CHAPTER I

BLUEBEARD'S CHAMBER

Bhulwana in early spring! Bhulwana of the singing birds and dartingsquirrels! Bhulwana of the pines!

Stella stood in the green compound of the bungalow known as The GrandStand, gazing down upon the green racecourse with eyes that dreamed. 

The evening was drawing near. They had arrived but a few minutes beforein Major Ralston's car, and the journey had taken the whole day. Hermind went back to that early hour almost in the dawning when she andEverard Monck had knelt together before the altar of the little EnglishChurch at Kurrumpore and been pronounced man and wife. Mrs. Ralston andTommy alone had attended the wedding. The hour had been kept a strictsecret from all besides. And they had gone straight forth into the earlysunlight of the new day and sped away into the morning, rejoicing. Ablue jay had laughed after them at starting, and a blue jay was laughingnow in the budding acacia by the gate. There seemed a mocking note inits laughter, but it held gaiety as well. Listening to it, she forgotall the weary miles of desert through which they had travelled. Theworld was fair, very fair, here at Bhulwana. And they were alone. 

There fell a step on the grass behind her; she thrilled and turned. Hecame and put his arm around her. 

"Do you think you can stand seven days of it?" he said. 

She leaned her head against him. "I want to catch every moment of themand hold it fast. How shall we make the time pass slowly?"

He smiled at the question. "Do you know, I was afraid this placewouldn't appeal to you?"

Her hand sought and closed upon his. "Ah, why not?" she said. 

He did not answer her. Only, with his face bent down to hers, he said, "The past is past then?"

"For ever, " she made swift reply. "But I have always lovedBhulwana--even in my sad times. Ah, listen! That is a _koïl_!"

They listened to the bird's flutelike piping, standing closely linked inthe shadow of a little group of pines. In the bungalow behind them Peterthe Great was decking the table for their wedding-feast. The scent ofwhite roses was in the air, languorous, exquisite. 

The blue jay laughed again in the acacia by the gate, laughed and flewaway. "Good riddance!" said Monck. 

"Don't you like him?" said Stella. 

"I'm not particularly keen on being jeered at, " he answered. 

She laughed at him in her turn. "I never thought you cared a single_anna_ what any one thought of you. "

He smiled. "Perhaps I have got more sensitive since I knew you. "

She lifted her lips to his with a sudden movement. "I am like that too, Everard. I care--terribly now. "

He kissed her, and his kiss was passionate. "No one shall ever thinkanything but good of you, my Stella, " he said. 

She clung to him. "Ah, but the outside world doesn't matter, " she said. "It is only we ourselves, and our secret, innermost hearts that count. Everard, let us be more than true to each other! Let us be quite, quiteopen--always!"

He held her fast, but he made no answer to her appeal. 

Her eyes sought his. "That is possible, isn't it?" she pleaded. "Myheart is open to you. There is not a single corner of it that you maynot enter. "

His arms clasped her closer. "I know, " he said. "I know. But you mustn'tbe hurt or sorry if I cannot say the same. My life is a more complexaffair than yours, remember. "

"Ah! That is India!" she said. "But let me share that part too! Let mebe a partner in all! I can be as secret as the wiliest Oriental of themall. I would so love to be trusted. It would make me so proud!"

He kissed her again. "You might be very much the reverse sometimes, " hesaid, "if you knew some of the secrets I had to keep. India is India, and she can be very lurid upon occasion. There is only one way oftreating her then; but I am not going to let you into any unpleasantsecrets. That is Bluebeard's Chamber, and you have got to stay outside. "

She made a small but vehement gesture in his arms. "I hate India!" shesaid. "She dominates you like--like--"

"Like what?" he said. 

She hid her face from him. "Like a horrible mistress, " she whispered. 

"Stella!" he said. 

She throbbed in his hold. "I had to say it. Are you angry with me?"

"No, " he said. 

"But you don't like me for it all the same. " Her voice came muffled fromhis shoulder. "You don't realize--very likely you never will--how nearthe truth it is. "

He was silent, but in the silence his hold tightened upon her till itwas almost a grip. 

She turned her face up again at last. "I told you it was madness tomarry me, " she said tremulously. "I told you you would repent. "

He looked at her with a strange smile. "And I told you it was--Kismet, "he said. "You did it because it was written that you should. For betterfor worse--" his voice vibrated--"you and I are bound by the same Fate. It was inevitable, and there can be no repentance, just as there can beno turning back. But you needn't hate India on that account. I have toldyou that I will give her up for your sake, and that stands. But I willnot give you up for India--or for any other power on earth. Now are yousatisfied?"

Her face quivered at the question. "It is--more than I deserve, " shesaid. "You shall give up nothing for me. "

He put his hand upon her forehead. "Stella, will you give her a trial?Give her a year! Possibly by that time I may tell you more than I amable to tell you now. I don't know if you would welcome it, but thereare always a chosen few to whom success comes. I may be one of the few. I have a strong belief in my own particular star. Again I may fail. If Ifail, I swear I will give her up. I will start again at some new job. But will you be patient for a year? Will you, my darling, let me provemyself? I only ask--one year. "

Her eyes were full of tears. "Everard! You make me feel--ashamed, " shesaid. "I won't--won't--be a drag on you, spoil your career! You mustforgive me for being jealous. It is because I love you so. But I know itis a selfish form of love, and I won't give way to it. I will neverseparate you from the career you have chosen. I only wish I could be ahelp to you. "

"You can only help me by being patient--just at present, " he said. 

"And not asking tiresome questions!" She smiled at him though her tearshad overflowed. "But oh, you won't take risks, will you? Not unnecessaryrisks? It is so terrible to think of you in danger--to think--to thinkof that horrible deformed creature who sent--Ralph--" She broke offshuddering and clinging to him. It was the first time she had everspoken of her first husband by name to him. 

He dried the tears upon her cheeks. "My own girl, you needn't beafraid, " he said, and though his words were kind she wondered at thegrimness of his voice. "I am not the sort of person to be disposed of inthat way. Shall we talk of something less agitating? I can't have youcrying on our wedding-night. "

His tone was repressive. She was conscious of a chill. Yet it was arelief to turn from the subject, for she recognized that there was smallsatisfaction to be derived therefrom. The sun was setting moreover, andit was growing cold. She let him lead her back into the bungalow, andthey presently sat down at the table that Peter had prepared with somuch solicitude. 

Later they lingered for awhile on the verandah, watching the blazingstars, till it came to Monck that his bride was nearly dropping withweariness and then he would not suffer her to remain any longer. 

When she had gone within, he lit a pipe and wandered out alone into thestarlight, following the deserted road that led to the Rajah's summerpalace. 

He paced along slowly with bent head, deep in thought. At the greatmarble gateway that led into the palace-garden he paused and stood for aspace in frowning contemplation. A small wind had sprung up and moanedamong the cypress-trees that overlooked the high wall. He seemed to belistening to it. Or was it to the hoot of an owl that came up from thevalley?

Finally he drew near and deliberately tapped the ashes from hishalf-smoked pipe upon the shining marble. The embers smouldered and wentout. A black stain remained upon the dazzling white surface of the stonecolumn. He looked at it for a moment or two, then turned and retracedhis steps with grim precision. 

When he reached the bungalow, he turned into the room in which they haddined; and sat down to write. 

Time passed, but he took no note of it. It was past midnight ere hethrust his papers together at length and rose to go. 

The main passage of the bungalow was bright with moonlight as hetraversed it. A crouching figure rose up from a shadowed doorway at hisapproach. Peter the Great looked at him with reproach in his eyes. 

Monck stopped short. He accosted the man in his own language, but Petermade answer in the careful English that was his pride. 

"Even so, _sahib_, I watch over my _mem-sahib_ until you come to her. Ikeep her safe by night as well as by day. I am her servant. "

He stood back with dignity that Monck might pass, but Monck stood still. He looked at Peter with a level scrutiny for a few moments. Then: "It isenough, " he said, with brief decision. "When I am not with your_mem-sahib_, I look to you to guard her. "

Peter made his stately _salaam_. Without further words, he conveyed thefact that without his permission no man might enter the room behind himand live. 

Very softly Monck turned the handle of the door and passed within, leaving him alone in the moonlight. 

CHAPTER II

EVIL TIDINGS

They walked on the following morning over the pine-clad hill and downinto the valley beyond, a place of running streams and fresh springverdure. Stella revelled in its sweetness. It made her think of Home. 

"You haven't told me anything about your brother, " she said, as they sattogether on a grey boulder and basked in the sunshine. 

"Haven't I?" Monck spoke meditatively. "I've got a photograph of himsomewhere. You must see it. You'll like my brother, " he added, with asmile. "He isn't a bit like me. "

She laughed. "That's a recommendation certainly. But tell me what he islike! I want to know. "

Monck considered. "He is a short, thick-set chap, stout and red, ratherlike a comedian in face. I think he appreciates a joke more than any oneI know. "

"He sounds a dear!" said Stella; and added with a gay side-glance, "andcertainly not in the least like you. Have you written yet to break thenews of your very rash marriage?"

"Yes, I wrote two days ago. He will probably cable his blessing. That isthe sort of chap he is. "

"It will be rather a shock for him, " Stella observed. "You had no ideaof changing your state when you saw him last summer. "

There fell a somewhat abrupt silence. Monck was filling his pipe and theprocess seemed to engross all his thoughts. Finally, rather suddenly, hespoke. "As a matter of fact, I didn't see him last summer. "

"You didn't see him!" Stella opened her eyes wide. "Not when you wentHome?"

"I didn't go Home. " Monck's eyes were still fixed upon his pipe. "No oneknows that but you, " he said, "and one other. That is the first secretout of Bluebeard's chamber that I have confided in you. Keep it close!"

Stella sat and gazed; but he would not meet her eyes. "Tell me, " shesaid at last, "who is the other? The Colonel?"

He shook his head. "No, not the Colonel, You mustn't ask questions, Stella, if I ever expand at all. If you do, I shall shut up like a clam, and you may get pinched in the process. "

She slipped her hand through his arm. "I will remember, " she said. "Thank you--ever so much--for telling me. I will bury it very deep. Noone shall ever suspect it through me. "

"Thanks, " he said. He pressed her hand, but he kept his eyes lowered. "Iknow I can trust you. You won't try to find out the things I keepback. "

"Oh, never!" she said. "Never! I shall never try to pry into affairs ofState. "

He smiled rather cynically. "That is a very wise resolution, " he said. "I shall tell Bernard that I have married the most discreet woman in theEmpire--as well as the most beautiful. "

"Did you marry her for her beauty or for her discretion?" asked Stella. 

"Neither, " he said. 

"Are you sure?" She leaned her cheek against his shoulder. "It's no goodpretending with me you know, I can see through anything, detect anydisguise, so far as you are concerned. "

"Think so?" said Monck. 

"Answer my question!" she said. 

"I didn't know you asked one. " His voice was brusque; he pushed his pipeinto his mouth without looking at her. 

She reached up and daringly removed it. "I asked what you married mefor, " she said. "And you suck your horrid pipe and won't even look atme. "

His arm went round her. He looked down into her eyes and she saw thefiery worship in his own. For a moment its intensity almost frightenedher. It was like the red fire of a volcano rushing forth upon her--afierce, unshackled force. For a space he held her so, gazing at her;then suddenly he crushed her to him, he kissed her burningly till shefelt as if caught and consumed by the flame. 

"My God!" he said passionately. "Can I put--that--into words?"

She clung to him, but she was trembling. There was that about him at themoment that startled her. She was in the presence of something terrible, something she could not fathom. There was more than rapture in hispassion. It was poignant with a fierce defiance that challenged all theworld. 

She lay against his breast in silence while the storm that she had sounwittingly raised spent itself. Then at last as his hold began toslacken she took courage. 

She laid her cheek against his hand. "Ah, don't love me too much atfirst, darling, " she said. "Give me the love that lasts!"

"And you think my love will not last?" he said, his voice low and verydeep. 

She softly kissed the hand she held. "No, I didn't say--or mean--that. Ibelieve it is the greatest thing that I shall ever possess. But--shall Itell you a secret? There is something in it that frightens me--eventhough I glory in it. "

"My dear!" he said. 

She raised her lips again to his. "Yes, I know. That is foolish. But Idon't know you yet, remember. I have never yet seen you angry with me. "

"You never will, " he said. 

"Yes, I shall. " Her eyes were gazing into his, but they saw beyond. "There will come a day when something will come between us. It may beonly a small thing, but it will not seem small to you. And you will beangry because I do not see with your eyes. And I think the verygreatness of your love will make it harder for us both. You mustn'tworship me, Everard. I am only human. And you will be so bitterlydisappointed afterwards when you discover my limitations. "

"I will risk that, " he said. 

"No. I don't want you to take any risks. If you set up an idol, and itfalls, you may be--I think you are--the kind of man to be ruined by it. "

She spoke very earnestly, but his faint smile told her that her wordshad failed to convince. 

"Are you really afraid of all that?" he asked curiously. 

She caught her breath. "Yes, I am afraid. I don't think you knowyourself, your strength, or your weakness. You haven't the least ideawhat you would say or do--or even feel--if you thought me unkind orunjust to you. "

"I should probably sulk, " he said. 

She shook her head. "Oh, no! You would explode--sooner or later. And itwould be a very violent explosion. I wonder if you have ever been reallyfurious with any one you cared about--with Tommy for instance. "

"I have, " said Monck. "But I don't fancy you will get him to relate hisexperiences. He survived it anyway. "

"You tell me!" she said. 

He hesitated. "It's rather a shame to give the boy away. But there isnothing very extraordinary in it. When Tommy first came out, he felt theheat--like lots of others. He was thirsty, and he drank. He doesn't doit now. I don't mind wagering that he never will again. I stopped him. "

"Everard, how?" Stella was looking at him with the keenest interest. 

"Do you really want to know how?" he still spoke with slight hesitation. 

"Of course I do. I suppose you were very angry with him?"

"I was--very angry. I had reason to be. He fell foul of me one night atthe Club. It doesn't matter how he did it. He wasn't responsible in anycase. But I had to act to keep him out of hot water. I took him back tomy quarters. Dacre was away that night and I had him to myself. I keptmy temper with him at first--till he showed fight and tried to kick me. Then I let him have it. I gave him a licking--such a licking as he nevergot at school. It sobered him quite effectually, poor little beggar. " Anodd note of tenderness crept through the grimness of Monck's speech. "But I didn't stop then. He had to have his lesson and he had it. When Ihad done with him, there was no kick left in him. He was as limp as awet rag. But he was quite sober. And to the best of my belief he hasnever been anything else from that day to this. Of course it was allhighly irregular, but it saved a worse row in the end. " Monck's faintsmile appeared. "He realized that. In fact he was game enough to thankme for it in the morning, and apologized like a gentleman for giving somuch trouble. "

"Oh, I'm glad he did that!" Stella said, with shining eyes. "And thatwas the beginning of your friendship?"

"Well, I had always liked him, " Monck admitted. "But he didn't like mefor a long time after. That thrashing stuck in his mind. It was a prettystiff one certainly. He was always very polite to me, but he avoided melike the plague. I think he was ashamed. I left him alone till one dayhe got ill, and then I went round to see if I could do anything. He waspretty bad, and I stayed with him. We got friendly afterwards. "

"After you had saved his life, " Stella said. 

Monck laughed. "That sort of thing doesn't count in India. If it comesto that, you saved mine. No, we came to an understanding, and we'vemanaged to hit it ever since. "

Stella got to her feet. "Were you very brutal to him, Everard?"

He reached a brown hand to her as she stood. "Of course I was. Hedeserved it too. If a man makes a beast of himself he need never lookfor mercy from me. "

She looked at him dubiously. "And if a woman makes you angry--" shesaid. 

He got to his feet and put his arm about her shoulders. "But I don'ttreat women like that, " he said, "not even--my wife. I have quiteanother sort of treatment for her. It's curious that you should creditme with such a vindictive temperament. I don't know what I have done todeserve it. "

She leaned her head against him. "My darling, forgive me! It is just myhorrid, suspicious nature. "

He pressed her to him. "You certainly don't know me very well yet, " hesaid. 

They went back to the bungalow in the late afternoon, walking hand inhand as children, supremely content. 

The blue jay laughed at the gate as they entered, and Monck looked up, "Jeer away, you son of a satyr!" he said. "I was going to shoot you, butI've changed my mind. We're all friends in this compartment. "

Stella squeezed his hand hard. "Everard, I love you for that!" she saidsimply. "Do you think we could make friends with the monkeys too?"

"And the jackals and the scorpions and the dear little _karaits_, " saidMonck. "No doubt we could if we lived long enough. "

"Don't laugh at me!" she protested. "I am quite in earnest. There areplenty of things to love in India. "

"There's India herself, " said Monck. 

She looked at him with resolution shining in her eyes. "You must teachme, " she said. 

He shook his head. "No, my dear. If you don't feel the lure of her, thenyou are not one of her chosen and I can never make you so. She is eithera goddess in her own right or the most treacherous old she-devil whoever sat in a heathen temple. She can be both. To love her, you must beprepared to take her either way. "

They went up into the bungalow. Peter the Great glided forward like amagnificent genie and presented a scrap of paper on a salver to Monck. 

He took it, opened it, frowned over it. 

"The messenger arrived three hours ago, _sahib_. He could not wait, "murmured Peter. 

Monck's frown deepened. He turned to Stella. "Go and have tea, dear, andthen rest! Don't wait for me! I must go round to the Club and get on thetelephone at once. "

The grimness of his face startled her. "To Kurrumpore?" she askedquickly. "Is there something wrong?"

"Not yet, " he said curtly. "Don't you worry! I shall be back as soon aspossible. "

"Let me come too!" she said. 

He shook his head. "No. Go and rest!"

He was gone with the words, striding swiftly down the path. As he passedout on to the road, he broke into a run. She stood and listened to hisreceding footsteps with foreboding in her heart. 

"Tea is ready, my _mem-sahib_" said Peter softly behind her. 

She thanked him with a smile and went in. 

He followed her and waited upon her with all a woman's solicitude. 

For a while she suffered him in silence, then suddenly, "Peter, " shesaid, "what was the messenger like?"

Peter hesitated momentarily. Then, "He was old, _mem-sahib_, " he said, "old and ragged, not worthy of your august consideration. "

She turned in her chair. "Was he--was he anything like--that--that holyman--Peter, you know who I mean?" Her face was deathly as she utteredthe question. 

"Let my _mem-sahib_ be comforted!" said Peter soothingly. "It was notthe holy man--the bearer of evil tidings. "

"Ah!" The words sank down through her heart like a stone dropped into awell. "But I think the tidings were evil all the same. Did he say whatit was? But--" as a sudden memory shot across her, "I ought not to ask. I wish--I wish the captain--_sahib_ would come back. "

"Let my _mem-sahib_ have patience!" said Peter gently. "He will sooncome now. "

The blue jay laughed at the gate gleefully, uproariously, derisively. Stella shivered. 

"He is coming!" said Peter. 

She started up. Monck was returning. He came up the compound like a manwho has been beaten in a race. His face was grey, his eyes terrible. 

Stella went swiftly to the verandah-steps to meet him. "Everard! Whatis it? Oh, what is it?" she said. 

He took her arm, turning her back. "Have you had tea?" he said. 

His voice was low, but absolutely steady. Its deadly quietness made hertremble. 

"I haven't finished, " she said. "I have been waiting for you. "

"You needn't have done that, " he said. "I won't have any, Peter, " heturned on the waiting servant, "get me some brandy!"

He sat down, setting her free. But she remained beside him, and after amoment laid her hand lightly upon his shoulder, without words. 

He reached up instantly, caught and held it in a grip that almost madeher wince. "Stella, " he said, "it's been a very short honeymoon, but I'mafraid it's over. I've got to get back at once. "

"I am coming with you, " she said quickly. 

He looked up at her with eyes that burned with a strange intensity buthe did not speak in answer. 

An awful dread clutched her. She knelt swiftly down beside him. "Everard, listen! I don't care what has happened or what is likely tohappen. My place is by your side--and nowhere else. I am coming withyou. Nothing on earth shall prevent me. "

Her words were quick and vehement, her whole being pulsated. Shechallenged his look with eyes of shining resolution. 

His arms were round her in a moment; he held her fast. "My Stella! Mywife!" he said. 

She clung closely to him. "By your side, I will face anything. You knowit, darling. I am not afraid. "

"I know, I know, " he said. "I won't leave you behind. I couldn't now. But a time will come when we shall have to separate. We've got to facethat. "

"Wait till it comes!" she whispered. "It isn't--yet. "

He kissed her on the lips. "No, not yet, thank heaven. You want to knowwhat has happened. I will tell you. Ermsted--you know Ermsted--was shotin the jungle near Khanmulla this afternoon, about half an hour ago. "

"Oh, Everard!" She started back in horror and was struck afresh by theawful intentness of his eyes. 

"Yes, " he said. "And if I had been here to receive that message, I couldhave prevented it. "

"Oh, Everard!" she said again. 

He went on doggedly. "I ought to have been here. My agent knew I was inthe place. I ought to have stayed within reach. These warnings mightarrive at any time. I was a damned lunatic, and Ermsted has paid theprice. " He stopped, and his look changed. "Poor girl! It's been a shockto you, " he said, "a beastly awakening for us both. "

Stella was very pale. "I feel, " she said slowly, "as if I were pursuedby a remorseless fate. "

"You?" he questioned. "This had nothing to do with you. "

She leaned against him. "Wherever I go, trouble follows. Haven't younoticed it? It seems as if--as if--whichever way I turn--a flaming swordis stretched out, barring the way. " Her voice suddenly quivered. "I knowwhy, --oh, yes, I know why. It is because once--like the man without awedding-garment, I found my way into a forbidden paradise. They hurledme out, Everard. I was flung into a desert of ashes. And now--now that Ihave dared to approach by another way--the sentence has gone forth thatwherever I pass, something shall die. That dreadful man--told me on theday that Ralph was taken away from me--that the Holy Ones were angry. And--my dear--he was right. I shall never be pardoned until Ihave--somehow--expiated my sin. "

"Stella! Stella!" He broke in upon her sharply. "You are talking wildly. Your sin, as you call it, was at the most no more than a bad mistake. Can't you put it from you?--get above it? Have you no faith? I thoughtall women had that. "

She looked at him strangely. "I wasn't brought up to believe in God, "she said. "At least not personally, not intimately. Were you?"

"Yes, " he said. 

"Ah!" Her eyes widened a little. "And you still believe in Him--stillbelieve He really cares--even when things go hopelessly wrong?"

"Yes, " he said again. "I can't talk about Him. But I know He's there. "

She still regarded him with wonder. "Oh, my dear, " she said finally, "are you behind me, or a very, very long way in front?"

He smiled faintly, grimly. "Probably a thousand miles behind, " he said. "But I have been given long sight, that's all. "

She rose to her feet with a sigh. "And I, " she said very sadly, "amblind. "

Down by the gate the blue jay laughed again, laughed and flew away. 

CHAPTER III

THE BEAST OF PREY

In a darkened room Netta Ermsted lay, trembling and unnerved. As usualin cases of adversity, Mrs. Ralston had taken charge of her; but therewas very little that she could do. It was more a matter for herhusband's skill than for hers, and he could only prescribe absolutequiet. For Netta was utterly broken. Since the fatal moment when she hadreturned from a call in her 'rickshaw to find Major Burton awaiting herwith the news that Ermsted had been shot on the jungle-road while ridinghome from Khanmulla, she had been as one distraught. They had restrainedher almost forcibly from rushing forth to fling herself upon his deadbody, and now that it was all over, now that the man who had loved herand whom she had never loved was in his grave, she lay prostrate, refusing all comfort. 

Tessa, wide-eyed and speculative, was in the care of Mrs. Burton, alternately quarrelling vigorously with little Cedric Burton whoseintellectual leanings provoked her most ardent contempt, and teasing theluckless Scooter out of sheer boredom till all the animal's ideas inlife centred in a desperate desire to escape. 

It was Tessa to whom Stella's pitying attention was first drawn on theday after her return to The Green Bungalow. Tommy, finding her raging inthe road like a little tiger-cat over some small _contretemps_ with Mrs. Burton, had lifted her on to his shoulders and brought her back withhim. 

"Be good to the poor imp!" he muttered to his sister. "Nobody wantsher. "

Certainly Mrs, Burton did not. She passed her on to Stella with hertwo-edged smile, and Tessa and Scooter forthwith cheerfully took uptheir abode at The Green Bungalow with whole-hearted satisfaction. 

Stella experienced little difficulty in dealing with the child. Shefound herself the object of the most passionate admiration which wentfar towards simplifying the problem of managing her. Tessa adored herand followed her like her shadow whenever she was not similarlyengrossed with her beloved Tommy. Of Monck she stood in considerableawe. He did not take much notice of her. It seemed to Stella that he hadretired very deeply into his shell of reserve during those days. Evenwith herself he was reticent, monosyllabic, obviously absorbed inmatters of which she had no knowledge. 

But for her small worshipper she would have been both lonely andanxious. For he was often absent, sometimes for hours at a stretchwholly without warning, giving no explanation upon his return. Sheasked no questions. She schooled herself to patience. She tried to becontent with the close holding of his arms when they were together andthe certainty that all the desire of his heart was for her alone. Butshe could not wholly, drive away the conviction that at the very gatesof her paradise the sword she dreaded had been turned against her. Theywere back in the desert again, and the way to the tree of life wasbarred. 

Perhaps it was natural that she should turn to Tessa for consolation anddistraction. The child was original in all her ways. Her ideas of deathwere wholly devoid of tragedy, and she was too accustomed to herfather's absence to feel any actual sense of loss. 

"Do you think Daddy likes Heaven?" she said to Stella one day. "I hopeMother will be quick and go there too. It would be better for her thanstaying behind with the Rajah. I always call him 'the slithy tove. ' Heis so narrow and wriggly. He wanted me to kiss him once, but I wouldn't. He looked so--so mischievous. " Tessa tossed her golden-brown head. "Besides, I only kiss white men. "

"Hear, hear!" said Tommy, who was cleaning his pipe on the verandah. "You stick to that, my child!"

"Mother said I was very silly, " said Tessa. "She was quite cross. Butthe Rajah only laughed in that nasty, slippy way he has and took hercigarette away and smoked it himself. I hated him for that, " ended Tessawith a little gleam of the tiger-cat in her blue eyes. "It--it was aliberty. "

Tommy's guffaw sounded from the verandah. It went into a greeting ofMonck who came up unexpectedly at the moment and sat down on awicker-chair to examine a handful of papers. Stella, working within theroom, looked up swiftly at his coming, but if he had so much as glancedin her direction he was fully engrossed with the matter in hand ere shehad time to observe it. He had been out since early morning and she hadnot seen him for several hours. 

Tessa, who possessed at times an almost uncanny shrewdness, left her andwent to stand on one leg in the doorway. "Most people, " she observed, "say 'Hullo!' to their wives when they come in. "

"Very intelligent of 'em, " said Tommy. "Do you think the Rajah does?"

"I don't know, " said Tessa seriously. "I went to the palace at Bhulwanaonce to see them. But the Rajah wasn't there. They were very kind, " sheadded dispassionately, "but rather silly. I don't wonder the Rajah likeswhite men's wives best. "

"Oh, quite natural, " agreed Tommy. 

"He gave Mother a beautiful ring with a diamond in it, " went on Tessa, delighted to have secured his attention and watching furtively for somesign of interest from Monck also. "It was worth hundreds and hundreds ofpounds. That was the last thing Daddy was cross about. He was cross. "

"Why?" asked Tommy. 

'"Cos he was jealous, I expect, " said Tessa wisely. "I thought he wasgoing to give her a whipping. And I hid in his dressing-room to see. Mother was awful frightened. She went down on her knees to him. And hewas just going to do it. I know he was. And then he came into thedressing-room and found me. And so he whipped me instead. " Tessa endedon a note of resentment. 

"Served you jolly well right, " said Tommy. 

"No, it didn't, " said Tessa. "He only did it 'cos Mother had made himangry. It wasn't a child's whipping at all. It was a grown-up'swhipping. And he used a switch. And it hurt--worse than anything everhurt before. That's why I didn't mind when he went to Heaven the otherday. I hope I shan't go there for a long time yet. It isn't nice to bewhipped like that. And I wasn't going to say I was sorry either. I knewthat would make him crosser than anything. "

"Poor chap!" said Tommy suddenly. 

Tessa came a step nearer to him. "_Ayah_ says the man who did it will behanged if they catch him, " she said. "If it is the Rajah, will youmanage so as I can go and see? I should like to. "

"Tessa!" exclaimed Stella. 

Tessa turned flushed cheeks and shining eyes upon her. "I would!" shedeclared stoutly. "I would! There's nothing wrong in that. He's a horridman. It isn't wrong, is it, Captain Monck? But if he shot my Daddy?" Shewent swiftly to Monck with the words and leaned ingratiatingly againsthim. "You'd kill a man yourself that did a thing like that, wouldn'tyou?"

"Very likely, " said Monck. 

She gazed at him admiringly. "I expect you've killed lots and lots ofmen, haven't you?" she said. 

He smiled with a touch of grimness. "Do you think I'm going to tell ascaramouch like you?" he said. 

"Everard!" Stella rose and came to the window. "Do--please--make herunderstand that people don't murder each other just whenever they feellike it--even in India!"

He raised his eyes to hers, and an odd sense of shock went through her. It was as if in some fashion he had deliberately made her aware of thatsecret chamber which she might not enter. "I think you would probably bemore convincing on that point than I should, " he said. 

She gave a little shudder; she could not restrain it. That look in hiseyes reminded her of something, something dreadful. What was it? Ah yes, she remembered now. He had had that look on that night of terror when hehad first called her his wife, when he had barred the window behind herand sworn to slay any man who should come between them. 

She turned aside and went in without another word. India again! Indiathe savage, the implacable, the ruthless! She felt as a prisoner whobattered fruitlessly against an iron door. 

Tessa's inquisitive eyes followed her. "She's going to cry, " she said toMonck. 

Tommy turned sharply upon his friend with accusation in his glance, butthe next instant he summoned Tessa as if she had been a terrier andwalked off into the compound with the child capering at his side. 

Monck sat for a moment or two looking straight before him; then hepacked together the papers in his hand and stepped through the openwindow into the room behind. It was empty. 

He went through it without a pause, and turned along the passage to thedoor of his wife's room. It stood half-open. He pushed it wider andentered. 

She was standing by her dressing-table, but she turned at his coming, turned and faced him. 

He came straight to her and took her by the shoulders. "What is thematter?" he said. 

She met his direct look, but there was shrinking in her eyes. "Everard, "she said, "there are times when you make me afraid. "

"Why?" he said. 

She could not put it into words. She made a piteous gesture with herclasped hands. 

His expression changed, subtly softening. "I can't always wear kidgloves, my Stella, " he said. "When there is rough work to be done, wehave to strip to the waist sometimes to get to it. It's the only way toget a sane grip on things. "

Her lips were quivering. "But you--you like it!" she said. 

He smiled a little. "I plead guilty to a sporting instinct, " he said. 

"You hunt down murderers--and call it--sport!" she said slowly. 

"No, I call it justice. " He still spoke gently though his face hadhardened again. "That child has a sense of justice, quite elementary, but a true one. If I could get hold of the man who killed Ermsted, Iwould cheerfully kill him with my own hand--unless I could be sure thathe would get his deserts from the Government who are apt to be somewhatslack in such matters. "

Stella shivered again. "Do you know, Everard, I can't bear to hear youtalk like that? It is the untamed, savage part of you. "

He drew her to him. "Yes, the soldier part. I know. I know quite well. But my dear, do me the justice at least to believe that I am on the sideof right! I can't do other than talk generalities to you. You simplywouldn't understand. But there are some criminals who can only be beatenwith their own weapons, remember that. Nicholson knew that--and appliedit. I follow--or try to follow--in Nicholson's steps. "

She clung to him suddenly and closely. "Oh, don't--don't! This isanother age. We have advanced since then. "

"Have we?" he said sombrely. "And do you think the India of to-day canbe governed by weakness any more successfully than the India ofNicholson's time? You have no idea what you say when you talk like that. Ermsted is not the first Englishman to be killed in this State. TheRajah of Markestan is too wily a beast to go for the large game at theoutset, though--probably--the large game is the only stuff he caresabout. He knows too well that there are eyes that watch perpetually, andhe won't expose himself--if he can help it. The trouble is he doesn'talways know where to look for the eyes that watch. "

A certain exultation sounded in his voice, but the next instant he bentand kissed her. 

"Why do you dwell on these things? They only trouble you. But I thinkyou might remember that since they exist, someone has to deal withthem. "

"You don't trust Ahmed Khan?" she said. "You think he is treacherous?"

He hesitated; then: "Ahmed Khan is either a tiger or--merely a jackal, "he said. "I don't know which at present. I am taking his measure. "

She still held him closely. "Everard, " her voice came low andbreathless, "you think he was responsible for Captain Ermsted's death. May he not have been also for--for--"

He checked her sharply before Ralph Dacre's name could leave her lips. "No. Put that out of your mind for good! You have no reason to suspectfoul play where he was concerned. "

He spoke with such decision that she looked at him in surprise. "I oftenhave suspected it, " she said. 

"I know. But you have no reason for doing so. I should try to forget itif I were you. Let the past be past!"

It was evident that he would not discuss the matter, and, wonderingsomewhat, she let it pass. The bare mention of Dacre seemed to beunendurable to him. But the suspicion which his words had startedremained in her mind, for it was beyond her power to dismiss it. Theconviction that he had met his death by foul means was steadily gainingground within her, winding serpent-like ever more closely about hershrinking heart. 

Monck went his way, whether deeply disappointed or not she knew not. Butshe realized that he would not reopen the subject. He had made hisexplanation, but--and for this she honoured him--he would not seek toconvince her against her will. It was even possible that he preferredher to keep her own judgment in the matter. 

They dined at the Mansfields' bungalow that night, a festivity for whichshe felt small relish, more especially as she knew that Mrs. Ralstonwould not be present. To be received with icy ceremony by Lady Harrietand sent in to dinner with Major Burton was a state of affairs that musthave dashed the highest spirits. She tried to make the best of it, butit was impossible to be entirely unaffected by the depressing chill ofthe atmosphere. Conversation turned upon Mrs. Ermsted, regarding whomthe report had gone forth that she was very seriously ill. Lady Harrietsought to probe Stella upon the subject and was plainly offended whenshe pleaded ignorance. She also tried to extract Monck's opinion of poorCaptain Ermsted's murder. Had it been committed by a mere _budmash_ forthe sake of robbery, or did he consider that any political significancewas attached to it? Monck drily expressed the opinion that somethingmight be said for either theory. But when Lady Harriet threw discretionto the winds and desired to know if it were generally believed inofficial circles that the Rajah was implicated, he raised his brows instern surprise and replied that so far as his information went the Rajahwas a loyal servant of the Crown. 

Lady Harriet was snubbed, and she felt the effects of it for the rest ofthe evening. Walking home with her husband through the starlight later, Stella laughed a little over the episode; but Monck was not responsive. He seemed engrossed in thought. 

He went with her to her room, and there bade her good-night, observingthat he had work to do and might be late. 

"It is already late, " she said. "Don't be long! I shall only lie awaketill you come. "

He frowned at her. "I shall be very angry if you do. "

"I can't help that, " she said. "I can't sleep properly till you come. "

He looked her in the eyes. "You're not nervous? You've got Peter. "

"Oh, I am not in the least nervous on my own account, " she told him. 

"You needn't be on mine, " he said. 

She laughed, but her lips were piteous. "Well, don't be long anyway!"she pleaded. "Don't forget I am waiting for you!"

"Forget!" he said. For an instant his hold upon her was passionate. Hekissed her fiercely, blindly, even violently; then with a muttered wordof inarticulate apology he let her go. 

She heard him stride away down the passage, and in a few moments Petercame and very softly closed the door. She knew that he was there onguard until his master should return. 

She sat down with a beating heart and leaned back with closed eyes. Aheavy sense of foreboding oppressed her. She was very tired, but yet sheknew that sleep was far away. Just as once she had felt a dread that wasphysical on behalf of Ralph Dacre, so now she felt weighed down bysuspense and loneliness. Only now it was a thousand times magnified, forthis man was her world. She tried to picture to herself what it wouldhave meant to her had that shot in the jungle slain him instead ofCaptain Ermsted. But the bare thought was beyond endurance. Once shecould have borne it, but not now--not now! Once she could have deniedher love and fared forth alone into the desert. But he had captured her, and now she was irrevocably his. Her spirit pined almost unconsciouslywhenever he was absent from her. Her body knew no rest without him. Fromthe moment of his leaving her, she was ever secretly on fire for hisreturn. 

Had they been in England she knew that it would have been otherwise. Ina calm and temperate atmosphere she could have attained a serene, unruffled happiness. But India, fevered and pitiless, held her inscorching grip. She dwelt as it were on the edge of a roaring furnacethat consumed some victims every day. Her life was strung up to a pitchthat frightened her. The very intensity of the love that Everard Monckhad practically forced into being within her was almost more than shecould bear. It hurt her like the searing of a flame, and yet in the hurtthere was rapture. For the icy blast of the desert could never reach hernow. Unless--unless--ah, was there not a flaming sword still threateningher wherever she pitched her camp? Surround herself as she would withthe magic essences of love, did not the vengeance await her--evennow--even now? Could she ever count herself safe so long as she remainedin this land of treachery and terrible vengeance? Could there ever beany peace so near to the burning fiery furnace?

Slowly the night wore on. The air blew in cool and pure with a softwhispering of spring and the brief splendour of the rose-time. The howlof a prowling jackal came now and then to her ears, making her shiverwith the memory of Monck's words. Away in the jungle the owls werecalling upon notes that sounded like weird cries for help. 

Once or twice she heard a shuffling movement outside the door and knewthat Peter was still on guard. She wondered if he ever slept. Shewondered if Tommy had returned. He often dropped into the Club on hisway back, and sometimes stayed late. Then, realizing how late it was, she came to the conclusion that she must have dozed in her chair. 

She got up with a sense of being weighted in every limb, and began toundress. Everard would be vexed if he returned and found her still up. Not that she expected him to return for a long time. His absence lastedsometimes till the night was nearly over. 

She never questioned him regarding it, and he never told her anything. Dacre's revelation on that night so long ago had never left her memory. He was engaged upon secret affairs. Possibly he was down in the nativequarter, disguised as a native, carrying his life in his hand. He had afriend in the bazaar, she knew; a man she had never seen, but whose shophe had once pointed out to her though he would not suffer her--andindeed she had no desire--to enter. This man--Rustam Karin--was a dealerin native charms and trinkets. The business was mainly conducted by ayouth of obsequious and insincere demeanour called Hafiz. The latter sheknew and instinctively disliked, but her feeling for the unknown masterwas one of more active aversion. In the depths of that dark native stallshe pictured him, a watcher, furtive and avaricious, a man who lenthimself and his shrewd and covetous brain to a Government he probablydespised as alien. 

Tommy had once described the man to her and her conception of him was aperfectly clear one. He was black-bearded and an opium-smoker, and shehated to think of Everard as in any sense allied with him. Dark, treacherous, and terrible, he loomed in her imagination. He representedIndia and all her subtleties. He was a serpent underfoot, a knife in thedark, an evil dream. 

She could not have said why the personality of a man she did not know soaffected her, save that she believed that all Monck's secret expeditionswere conceived in the gloom of that stall she had never entered in theheart of the native bazaar. The man was in Monck's confidence. Perhaps, being a woman, that hurt her also. For though she recognized--as in thecase of that native lair down in the bazaar--that it were better neverto set foot in that secret chamber, yet she resented the thought thatany other should have free access to it. She was beginning to regardthat part of Monck's life with a dread that verged upon horror--afeeling which her very love for the man but served to intensify. She wasas one clinging desperately to a treasure which might at any moment bewrested from her. 

Stiffly and wearily she undressed. Tommy must surely have returned agesago, though probably late, or he would have come to bid her good-night. Why did not Everard return?

At the last she extinguished her light and went to the window to gazewistfully out across the verandah. That secret whispering--the stirringof a thousand unseen things--was abroad in the night. The air was softand scented with a fragrance intangible but wholly sweet. India, stretched out beneath the glittering stars, stirred with half-openedeyes, and smiled. Stella thought she heard the flutter of her robe. 

Then again the mystery of the night was rent by the cry of some beast ofprey, and in a second the magic was gone. The shadows were full of evil. She drew back with swift, involuntary shrinking; and as she did so, sheheard the dreadful answering cry of the prey that had been seized. 

India again! India the ruthless! India the bloodthirsty! India thevampire!

For a few palpitating moments she leaned against the wall feelingphysically sick. And as she leaned, there passed before her inner visionthe memory of that figure which she had seen upon the verandah on thatterrible night when Everard had been stricken with fever. The look inher husband's eyes that day had brought it back to her, and now like aflashlight it leapt from point to point of her brain, revealing, illuminating. 

That figure on the verandah and the unknown man of the bazaar were one. It was Rustam Karin whom she had seen that night--Rustam Karin, Everard's trusted friend and ally--the Rajah's tool also though Everardwould never have it so--and (she was certain of it now with thatcertainty which is somehow all the greater because without proof) thiswas the man who had followed Ralph Dacre to Kashmir and lured him to hisdeath. This was the beast of prey who when the time was ripe woulddestroy Everard Monck also. 

CHAPTER IV

THE FLAMING SWORD

The conviction which came upon Stella on that night of chequeredstarlight was one which no amount of sane reasoning could shake. Shemade no attempt to reopen the subject with Everard, recognizing fullythe futility of such a course; for she had no shadow of proof to supportit. But it hung upon her like a heavy chain. She took it with herwherever she went. 

More than once she contemplated taking Tommy into her confidence. Butagain that lack of proof deterred her. She was certain that Tommy wouldgive no credence to her theory. And his faith in Monck--his wariness, his discretion--was unbounded. 

She did question Peter with regard to Rustam Karin, but she elicitedscant satisfaction from him. Peter went but little to the native bazaar, and like herself had never seen the man. He appeared so seldom and thenonly by night. There was a rumour that he was leprous. This was all thatPeter knew. 

And so it seemed useless to pursue the matter. She could only wait andwatch. Some day the man might emerge from his lair, and she would beable to identify him beyond all dispute. Peter could help her then. Buttill then there was nothing that she could do. She was quite helpless. 

So, with that shrinking still strongly upon her that made all mention ofRalph Dacre's death so difficult, she buried the matter deep in her ownheart, determined only that she also would watch with a vigilance thatnever slackened until the proof for which she waited should be hers. 

The weeks had begun to slip by with incredible swiftness. The tragedy ofErmsted's death had ceased to be the talk of the station. Tessa had goneback to her mother who still remained a semi-invalid in the Ralstons'hospitable care. Netta's plans seemed to be of the vaguest; but Homeleave was due to Major Ralston the following year, and it seemed likelythat she would drift on till then and return in their company. 

Stella did not see very much of her friend in those days. Netta, exacting and peevish, monopolized much of the latter's time and kept hereffectually at a distance. The days were growing hotter moreover, andher energies flagged, though all her strength was concentrated uponconcealing the fact from Everard. For already the annual exodus toBhulwana was being discussed, and only the possibility that thebattalion might be moved to a healthier spot for the summer had deferredit for so long. 

Stella clung to this possibility with a hope that was passionate in itsintensity. She had a morbid dread of separation, albeit the danger shefeared seemed to have sunk into obscurity during the weeks that hadintervened. If there yet remained unrest in the State, it was below thesurface. The Rajah came and went in his usual romantic way, played polowith his British friends, danced and gracefully flattered their wives asof yore. 

On one occasion only did he ask Stella for a dance, but she excusedherself with a decision there was no mistaking. Something within herrevolted at the bare idea. He went away smiling, but he never asked heragain. 

Definite orders for the move to Udalkhand arrived at length, andStella's heart rejoiced. The place was situated on the edge of a river, a brown and turgid torrent in the rainy weather, but no more than atorpid, muddy stream before the monsoon. A native town and temple stoodupon its banks, but a sandy road wound up to higher ground on which afew bungalows stood, overlooking the grim, parched desert below. 

The jungle of Khanmulla was not more than five miles distant, andKurrumpore itself barely ten. But yet Stella felt as if a load had beenlifted from her. Surely the danger here would be more remote! And shewould not need to leave her husband now. That thought set her very hearta-singing. 

Monck said but little upon the subject. He was more non-committal thanever in those days. Everyone said that Udalkhand was healthier andcooler than Kurrumpore and he did not contradict the statement. But yetStella came to perceive after a time something in his silence which shefound unsatisfactory. She believed he watched her narrowly though hecertainly had no appearance of doing so, and the suspicion made hernervous. 

There were a few--Lady Harriet among the number--who condemned Udalkhandfrom the outset as impossible, and departed for Bhulwana withoutattempting to spend even the beginning of the hot season there. NettaErmsted also decided against it though Mrs. Ralston declared herintention of going thither, and she and Tessa departed for thatuniversal haven The Grand Stand before any one else. 

This freed Mrs. Ralston, but Stella had grown a little apart from herfriend during that period at Kurrumpore, and a measure of reserve hungbetween them though outwardly they were unchanged. A great languor hadcome upon Stella which seemed to press all the more heavily upon herbecause she only suffered herself to indulge it in Everard's absence. When he was present she was almost feverishly active, but it needed allher strength of will to achieve this, and she had no energy over for herfriends. 

Even after the move to Udalkhand had been accomplished, she scarcelyfelt the relief which she so urgently needed. Though the place wasundoubtedly more airy than Kurrumpore, the air came from the desert, andsand-storms were not infrequent. 

She made a brave show nevertheless, and with Peter's help turned theirnew abode into as dainty a dwelling-place as any could desire. Tommyalso assisted with much readiness though the increasing heat wasanathema to him also. He was more considerate for his sister just thenthan he had ever been before. Often in Monck's absence he would spendmuch of his time with her, till she grew to depend upon him to an extentshe scarcely realized. He had taken up wood-carving in his leisure hoursand very soon she was fully occupied with executing elaborate designsfor his workmanship. They worked very happily together. Tommy declaredit kept him out of mischief, for violent exercise never suited him inhot weather. 

And it was hot. Every day seemed to bring the scorching reality ofsummer a little nearer. In spite of herself Stella flagged more andmore. Tommy always kept a brave front. He was full of devices forameliorating their discomfort. He kept the punkah-coolie perpetually athis task. He made the water-coolie spray the verandah a dozen times aday. He set traps for the flies and caught them in their swarms. 

But he could not take the sun out of the sky which day by day shone fromhorizon to horizon as a brazen shield burnished to an intolerablebrightness, while the earth--- parched and cracked and barren--faintedbeneath it. The nights had begun to be oppressive also. The wind fromthe desert was as the burning breath from a far-off forest-fire whichhourly drew a little nearer. Stella sometimes felt as if a monster-handwere slowly closing upon her, crushing out her life. 

But still with all her might she strove to hide from Monck the ravagesof the cruel heat, even stooping to the bitter subterfuge of faintlycolouring the deathly whiteness of her cheeks. For the wild-rose bloomhad departed long since, as Netta Ermsted had predicted, though herbeauty remained--the beauty of the pure white rose which is fairer thanany other flower that grows. 

There came a burning day at last, however, when she realized that theevening drive was almost beyond her powers. Tommy was on duty at thebarracks. Everard had, she believed, gone down to Khanmulla to seeBarnes of the Police. She decided in the absence of both to indulge in arest, and sent Peter to countermand the carriage. 

Then a great heaviness came upon her, and she yielded herself to it, lying inert upon the couch in the drawing-room dully listening to thecreak of the punkah that stirred without cooling the late afternoon air. 

Some time must have passed thus and she must have drifted into a speciesof vague dreaming that was not wholly sleep when suddenly there came asound at the darkened window; the blind was lifted and Monck stood inthe opening. 

She sprang up with a startled sense of being caught off her guard, butthe next moment a great dizziness came upon her and she reeled back, groping for support. 

He dropped the blind and caught her. "Why, Stella!" he said. 

She clung to him desperately. "I am all right--I am all right! Hold me aminute! I--I tripped against the matting. " Gaspingly she uttered thewords, hanging upon him, for she knew she could not stand alone. 

He put her gently down upon the sofa. "Take it quietly, dear!" he said. 

She leaned back upon the cushions with closed eyes, for her brain wasswimming. "I am all right, " she reiterated. "You startled me a little. I--didn't expect you back so soon. "

"I met Barnes just after I started, " he made answer. "He is coming todine presently. "

Her heart sank. "Is he?" she said faintly. 

"No. " Monck's tone suddenly held an odd note that was half-grim andhalf-protective. "On second thoughts, he can go to the Mess with Tommy. I don't think I want him any more than you do. "

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Everard, of course he mustdine here if you have asked him! Tell Peter!"

Her vision was still slightly blurred, but she saw that the set of hisjaw was stubborn. He stooped after a moment and kissed her forehead. "You lie still!" he said. "And mind--you are not to dress for dinner. "

He turned with that and left her. 

She was not sorry to be alone, for her head was throbbing almostunbearably, but she would have given much to know what was in his mind. 

She lay there passively till presently she heard Tommy dash in to dressfor mess, and shortly after there came the sound of men's voices in thecompound, and she knew that Monck and Barnes were walking to and frotogether. 

She got up then, summoning her energies, and stole to her own room. Monck had commanded her not to change her dress, but the haggardness ofher face shocked her into taking refuge in the remedy which she secretlydespised. She did it furtively, hoping that in the darkened drawing-roomhe had not noted the ghastly pallor which she thus sought to conceal. 

Before she left her room she heard Tommy and Barnes departing, and whenshe entered the dining-room Monck came in alone at the window and joinedher. 

She met him somewhat nervously, for she thought his face was stern. Butwhen he spoke, his voice held nought but kindness, and she wasreassured. He did not look at her with any very close criticism, nor didhe revert to what had passed an hour before. 

They were served by Peter, swiftly and silently, Stella making a valianteffort to simulate an appetite which she was far from possessing. Thewindows were wide to the night, and from the river bank below there camethe thrumming of some stringed instrument, which had a weird andstrangely poignant throbbing, as if it voiced some hidden distress. There were a thousand sounds besides, some near, some distant, but itpenetrated them all with the persistence of some small imprisonedcreature working perpetually for freedom. 

It began to wear upon Stella's nerves at last. It was so futile, yet sopathetic--the same soft minor tinkle, only a few stray notes played overand over, over and over, till her brain rang with the maddening littlerefrain. She was glad when the meal was over, and she could make theexcuse to move to the drawing-room. There was a piano here, a ricketyinstrument long since hammered into tunelessness. But she sat downbefore it. Anything was better than to sit and listen to that single, plaintive little voice of India crying in the night. 

She thought and hoped that Monck would smoke his cigarette and sufferhimself to be lulled into somnolence by such melody as she was able toextract from the crazy old instrument; but he disappointed her. 

He smoked indeed, lounging out in the verandah, while she sought withevery allurement to draw him in and charm him to blissful, sleepycontentment. But it presently came to her that there was somethingdogged in his refusal to be so drawn, and when she realized that shebrought her soft _nocturne_ to a summary close and turned round to himwith just a hint of resentment. 

He was leaning in the doorway, the cigarette gone from his lips. Hisface was turned to the night. His attitude seemed to express thatpatience which attends upon iron resolution. He looked at her over hisshoulder as she paused. 

"Why don't you sing?" he said. 

A little tremor of indignation went through her. He spoke with thegentle indulgence of one who humours a child. Only once had she eversung to him, and then he had sat in such utter immobility and silencethat she had questioned with herself afterwards if he had cared for it. 

She rose with a wholly unconscious touch of majesty. "I have no voiceto-night, " she said. 

"Then come here!" he said. 

His voice was still absolutely gentle but it held an indefinablesomething that made her raise her brows. 

She went to him nevertheless, and he put his hand through her arm anddrew her close to his side. The night was heavy with a broodingheat-haze that blotted out the stars. The little twanging instrumentdown by the river was silent. 

For a space Monck did not speak, and gradually the tension went out ofStella. She relaxed at length and laid her cheek against his shoulder. 

His arm went round her in a moment; he held her against his heart. "Stella, " he said, "do you ever think to yourself nowadays that I am avery formidable person to live with?"

"Never, " she said. 

His arm tightened about her. "You are not afraid of me any longer?"

She smiled a little. "What is this leading up to?"

He bent suddenly, his lips against her forehead. "Dear heart, if I amwrong--forgive me! But--why are you trying to deceive me?"

She had never heard such tenderness in his voice before; it thrilled herthrough and through, checking her first involuntary dismay. She hid herface upon his breast, clasping him close, trembling from head to foot. 

He turned, still holding her, and led her to the sofa. They sat downtogether. 

"Poor girl!" he said softly. "It hasn't been easy, has it?"

Then she realized that he knew all that she had so strenuously sought tohide. The struggle was over and she was beaten. A great wave of emotionwent through her. Before she could check herself, she was shaken withsobs. 

"No, no!" he said, and laid his hand upon her head. "You mustn't cry. It's all right, my darling. It's all right. What is there to cry about?"

She clung faster to him, and her hold was passionate. "Everard, " shewhispered, "Everard, --I--can't leave you!"

"Ah!" he said "We are up against it now. "

"I can't!" she said again. "I can't. "

His hand was softly stroking her hair. Such tenderness as she had neverdreamed of was in his touch. "Leave off crying!" he said. "God knows Iwant to make things easier for you--not harder. "

"I can bear anything, " she told him brokenly, "anything in the world--ifonly I am with you. I can't leave you. You won't--you can't--force me tothat. "

"Stella! Stella!" he said. 

His voice checked her. She knew that she had hurt him. She lifted herface quickly to his. 

"Oh, darling, forgive me!" she said. "I know you would not. "

He kissed the quivering lips she raised without words, and thereafterthere fell a silence between them while the mystery of the night seemedto press closer upon them, and the veiled goddess turned in her sleepand subtly smiled. 

Stella uttered a long, long sigh at last. "You are good to bear with melike this, " she said rather piteously. 

"Better now?" he questioned gently. 

She closed her eyes from the grave scrutiny of his. "I am--quite allright, dear, " she said. "And I am taking great care of myself. Please--please don't worry about me!"

His hand sought and found hers. "I have been worrying about you for along time, " he said. 

She gave a start of surprise. "I never thought you noticed anything. "

"Yes. " With a characteristic touch of grimness he answered her. "Inoticed when you first began to colour your cheeks for my benefit. Iknew it was only for mine, or of course I should have been furious. "

"Oh, Everard!" She hid her face against him again with a little shamedlaugh. 

He went on without mercy. "I am not an easy person to deceive, you know. You really might have saved yourself the trouble. I hoped you would givein sooner. That too would have saved trouble. "

"But I haven't given in, " she said. 

His hand closed upon hers. "You would kill yourself first if I would letyou, " he said. "But--do you think I am going to do that?"

"It would kill me to leave you, " she said. 

"And what if it kills you to stay?" He spoke with sudden force. "No, listen a minute! I have something to tell you. I have been worried aboutyou--as I said--for some time. To-day I was working in the orderly-room, and Ralston chanced to come in. He asked me how you were. I said, 'I amafraid the climate is against her. What do you think of her?' Hereplied, 'I'll tell you what I think of you, if you like. I think you'rea damned fool. ' That opened my eyes. " Monck ended on the old grim note. "I thanked him for the information, and told him to come over here andsee you on the earliest opportunity. He has promised to come round inthe morning. "

"Oh, but Everard!" Stella started up in swift protest. "I don't wanthim! I won't see him!"

He kept her hand in his. "I am sorry, " he said. "But I am going toinsist on that. "

"You--insist!" She looked at him curiously, a quivering smile about herlips. 

His eyes met hers uncompromisingly. "If necessary, " he said. 

She made a movement to free herself, but he frustrated her, gently butwith indisputable mastery. 

"Stella, " he said, "things may be difficult. I know they are. But, mydear, don't make them impossible! Let us pull together in this as ineverything else!"

She met his look steadily. "You know what will happen, don't you?" shesaid. "He will order me to Bhulwana. "

Monck's hand tightened upon hers. "Better that, " he said, under hisbreath, "than to lose you altogether!"

"And if it kills me to leave you?" she said. "What then?"

He made a gesture that was almost violent, but instantly restrainedhimself. "I think you are braver than that, " he said. 

Her lips quivered again piteously. "I am not brave at all, " she said. "I left all my courage--all my faith--in the mountains one terriblemorning--when God cursed me for marrying a man I did not love--andtook--the man--- away. "

"My darling!" Monck said. He drew her to him again, holding herpassionately close, kissing the trembling lips till they clung to his inanswer. "Can't you forget all that, " he said, "put it right away fromyou, think only of what lies before. "

Her arms were round his neck. She poured out her very soul to him inthat close embrace. But she said no word in answer, and her silence wasthe silence of despair. It seemed to her that the flaming sword shedreaded had flashed again across her path, closing the way tohappiness. 

CHAPTER V

TESSA

The blue jay was still laughing on the pine-clad slopes of Bhulwana whenStella returned thither. It was glorious summer weather. There was lifein the air--such life as never reached the Plains. 

The bungalow up the hill, called "The Nest, " which once Ralph Dacre hadtaken for his bride, was to be Stella's home for the period of hersojourn at Bhulwana. It was a pretty little place twined in roses, standing in a shady compound that Tessa called "the jungle. " Tessabecame at once her most constant visitor. She and Scooter were runningwild as usual, but Netta was living in strict retirement. People saidshe looked very ill, but she seemed to resent all sympathy. There was anair of defiance about her which kept most people at a distance. 

Stories were rife concerning her continued intimacy with the Rajah whowas now in residence at his summer palace on the hill. They went forgallops together in the early morning, and in the evenings theysometimes flashed along the road in his car. But he was seldom observedto enter the bungalow she occupied, and even Tessa had no privateinformation to add to the general gossip. Netta seldom went to racecourse or polo-ground, where the Rajah was most frequently to be found. 

Stella, who had never liked Netta Ermsted, took but slight interest inher affairs. She always welcomed Tessa, however, and presently, sinceher leisure was ample and her health considerably improved, she began togive the child a few lessons which soon became the joy of Tessa's heart. She found her quick and full of enthusiasm. Her devotion to Stella madeher tractable, and they became fast friends. 

It was in June just before the rains, that Monck came up on a week'sleave. He found Tessa practically established as Stella's companion. Hermother took no interest in her doings. The _ayah_ was responsible forher safety, and even if Tessa elected to spend the night with herfriend, Netta raised no objection. It had always been her way to leavethe child to any who cared to look after her, since she franklyacknowledged that she was quite incapable of managing her herself. IfMrs. Monck liked to be bothered with her, it was obviously her affair, not Netta's. 

And so Stella kept the little girl more and more in her own care, sinceMrs. Ralston was still at Udalkhand, and no one else cared in thesmallest degree for her welfare. She would not keep her for good, though, so far as her mother was concerned, she might easily have doneso. But she did occasionally--as a great treat--have her to sleep withher, generally when Tessa's looks proclaimed her to be in urgent need ofa long night. For she was almost always late to bed when at home, refusing to retire before her mother, though there was little ofcompanionship between them at any time. 

Stella investigated this resolution on one occasion, and finallyextracted from Tessa the admission that she was afraid to go to bedearly lest her mother should go out unexpectedly, in which event the_ayah_ would certainly retire to the servants' quarters, and she wouldbe alone in the bungalow. No amount of reasoning on Stella's part couldshake this dread. Tessa's nerves were strung to a high pitch, and it wasevident that she felt very strongly on the subject. So, out of sheerpity, Stella sometimes kept her at "The Nest, " and Tessa's gratitudeknew no bounds. She was growing fast, and ought to have been in Englandfor the past year at least; but Netta's plans were still vague. Shesupposed she would have to go when the Ralstons did, but she saw noreason for hurry. Lady Harriet remonstrated with her on the subject, butobtained no satisfaction. Netta was her own mistress now, and meant toplease herself. 

Monck arrived late one evening on the day before that on which he wasexpected, and found Tessa and Peter playing with a ball in thecompound. The two were fast friends and Stella often left Tessa in hischarge while she rested. 

She was resting now, lying in her own room with a book, when suddenlythe sound of Tessa's voice raised in excited welcome reached her. Sheheard Monck's quiet voice make reply, and started up with every pulsequivering. She had not seen him for nearly six weeks. 

She met him in the verandah with Tessa hanging on his arm. Since hergreat love for Stella had developed, she had adopted Stella's husbandalso as her own especial property, though it could scarcely be said thatMonck gave her much encouragement. On this occasion she simply ceased toexist for him the moment he caught sight of Stella's face. And evenStella herself forgot the child in the first rapture of greeting. 

But later Tessa asserted herself again with a determination that wouldnot be ignored. She begged hard to be allowed to remain for the night;but this Stella refused to permit, though her heart smote her somewhatwhen she saw her finally take her departure with many wistful backwardglances. 

Monck was hard-hearted enough to smile. "Let the imp go! She has hadmore than her share already, " he said. "I'm not going to divide you withany one under the sun. "

Stella was lying on the sofa. She reached out and held his hand, leaningher cheek against his sleeve. "Except--" she murmured. 

He bent to her, his lips upon her shining hair. "Ah, I have begun to dothat already, " he said, with a touch of sadness. "I wonder if you are aslonely up here as I am at Udalkhand. "

She kissed his sleeve. "I miss you--unspeakably, " she said. 

His fingers closed upon hers. "Stella, can you keep a secret?"

She looked up swiftly. "Of course--of course. What is it? Have they madeyou Governor-General of the province?"

He smiled grimly. "Not yet. But Sir Reginald Bassett--you know old SirReggie?--came and inspected us the other day, and we had a talk. He isone of the keenest empire-builders that I ever met. " An odd thrillsounded in Monck's voice. "He asked me if presently--when the vacancyoccurred--I would be his secretary, his political adviser, as he put it. Stella, it would be a mighty big step up. It would lead--it mightlead--to great things. "

"Oh, my darling!" She was quivering all over. "Would it--would it meanthat we should be together? No, " she caught herself up sharply, "that issheer selfishness. I shouldn't have asked that first. "

His lips pressed hers. "Don't you know it is the one thing that comesfirst of all with me too?" he said. "Yes, it would mean far less ofseparation. It would probably mean Simla in the hot weather, and onlyshort absences for me. It would mean an end of this beastly regimentallife that you hate so badly. What? Did you think I didn't know that?But it would also mean leaving poor Tommy at the grindstone, which ishard. "

"Dear Tommy! But he has lots of friends. You don't think he would get upto mischief?"

"No, I don't think so. He is more of a man than he was. And I could keepan eye on him--even from a distance. Still, it won't come yet, --notprobably till the end of the year. You are fairly comfortable here--youand Peter?"

She smiled and sighed. "Oh yes, he keeps away the bogies, and Tessachases off the blues. So I am well taken care of!"

"I hope you don't let that child wear you out, " Monck said. "She israther a handful. Why don't you leave her to her mother?"

"Because she is utterly unfit to have the care of her. " Stella spokewith very unusual severity. "Since Captain Ermsted's death she seems tohave drifted into a state of hopeless apathy. I can't bear to think of asusceptible child like Tessa brought up in such an atmosphere. "

"Apathetic, is she? Do you often see her?" Monck spoke casually, as herolled a cigarette. 

"Very seldom. She goes out very little, and then only with the Rajah. They say she looks ill, but that is not surprising. She doesn't lead awholesome life!"

"She keeps up her intimacy with His Excellency then?" Monck still spokeas if his thoughts were elsewhere. 

Stella dismissed the subject with a touch of impatience. She had nodesire to waste any precious moments over idle gossip. "I imagine so, but I really know very little. I don't encourage Tessa to talk. As youknow, I never could bear the man. "

Monck smiled a little. "I know you are discretion itself, " he said. "Butyou are not to adopt Tessa, mind, whatever the state of her mother'smorals!"

"Ah, but I must do what I can for the poor waif, " Stella protested. "There isn't much that I can do when I am away from you, --not much, Imean, that is worth while. "

"All right, " Monck said with finality, "so long as you don't adopt her. "

Stella saw that he did not mean to allow Tessa a very large share of herattention during his leave. She did not dispute the point, knowing thathe could be as adamant when he had formed a resolution. 

But she did not feel happy about the child. There was to her somethingtragic about Tessa, as if the evil fate that had overtaken the fatherbrooded like a dark cloud over her also. Her mind was not at restconcerning her. 

In the morning, however, Tessa arrived upon the scene, impudent andcheerful, and she felt reassured. Her next anxiety became to keep herfrom annoying Monck upon whom naturally Tessa's main attention wascentered. Tessa, however, was in an unusually tiresome mood. Sherefused to be contented with the society of the ever-patient Peter, repudiated the bare idea of lesson books, and set herself with fiendishingenuity to torment the new-comer into exasperation. 

Stella could have wept over her intractability. She had never beforefound her difficult to manage. But Netta's perversity and Netta'sdevilry were uppermost in her that day, and when at last Monck curtlyordered her not to worry herself but to leave the child alone, she gaveup her efforts in despair. Tessa was riding for a fall. 

It came eventually, after two hours' provocation on her part and sternpatience on Monck's. Stella, at work in the drawing-room, heard a suddensharp exclamation from the verandah where Monck was seated before atable littered with Hindu literature, and looked up to see Tessa, with amonkey-like grin of mischief, smoking the cigarette which she had justsnatched from between Monck's lips. She was dancing on one leg just outof reach, ready to take instant flight should the occasion require. 

Stella was on the point of starting up to intervene, but Monck stoppedher with a word. He was quieter than she had ever seen him, and thatfact of itself warned her that he was angry at last. 

"Come here!" he said to Tessa. 

Tessa removed the cigarette to poke her tongue out at him, and continuedher war-dance just out of reach. It was Netta to the life. 

Monck glanced at the watch on his wrist. "I give you one minute, " hesaid, and returned to his work. "

"Why don't you chase me?" gibed Tessa. 

He said nothing further, but to Stella his silence was ominous. Shewatched him with anxious eyes. 

Tessa continued to smoke and dance, posturing like a _nautch-girl_ infront of the wholly unresponsive and unappreciative Monck. 

The minute passed, Stella counting the seconds with a throbbing heart. Monck did not raise his eyes or stir, but there was to her somethingdreadful in his utter stillness. She marvelled at Tessa's temerity. 

Tessa continued to dance and jeer till suddenly, finding that she wasmaking no headway, a demon of temper entered into her. She turned in afury, sprang from the verandah to the compound, snatched up a handful ofsmall stones and flung them full at the impassive Monck. 

They fell around him in a shower. He looked up at last. 

What ensued was almost too swift for Stella's vision to follow. She sawhim leap the verandah-balustrade, and heard Tessa's shrill scream offright. Then he had the offender in his grasp, and Stella saw the deadlydetermination of his face as he turned. 

In spite of herself she sprang up, but again his voice checked her. "Allright. This is my job. Bring me the strap off the bag in my room!"

"Everard!" she cried aghast. 

Tessa was struggling madly for freedom. He mastered her as he would havemastered a refractory puppy, carrying her up the steps ignominiouslyunder his arm. 

"Do as I say!" he commanded. 

And against her will Stella turned and obeyed. She fetched the strap, but she held it back when he stretched a hand for it. 

"Everard, she is only a child. You won't--you won't----"

"Flay her with it?" he suggested, and she saw his brief, ironic smile. "Not at present. Hand it over!"

She gave it reluctantly. Tessa squealed a wild remonstrance. Themerciless grip that held her had sent terror to her heart. 

Monck, still deadly quiet, set her on her feet against one of the woodenposts that supported the roof of the verandah, passed the strap roundher waist and buckled it firmly behind the post. 

Then he stood up and looked again at the watch on his wrist. "Twohours!" he said briefly, and went back to his work at the other end ofthe verandah. 

Stella went back to the drawing-room, half-relieved and half-dismayed. It was useless to interfere, she saw; but the punishment, though richlydeserved, was a heavy one, and she wondered how Tessa, theever-restless, wrought up to a high pitch of nervous excitement as shewas, would stand it. 

The thickness of the post to which she was fastened made it impossiblefor her to free herself. The strap was a very stout one, and the bucklesuch as only a man's fingers could loosen. It was an undignifiedposition, and Tessa valued her dignity as a rule. 

She cast it to the winds on this occasion, however, for she fought likea wild cat for freedom, and when at length her absolute helplessness wasmade quite clear even to her, she went into a paroxysm of fury, hurlingevery kind of invective that occurred to her at Monck who with thegrimness of an executioner sat at his table in unbroken silence. 

Having exhausted her vocabulary, both English and Hindustani, Tessabroke at last into tears and wept stormily for many minutes. Monck satthrough the storm without raising his eyes. 

From the drawing-room Stella watched him. She was no longer afraid ofany unconsidered violence. He was completely master of himself, but shethought there was a hint of cruelty about him notwithstanding. There wasruthlessness in his utter immobility. 

The hour for _tiffin_ drew near. Peter came out on to the verandah tolay the cloth. Monck gathered up books and papers and rose. 

The great Sikh looked at the child shaken with passionate sobbing in thecorner of the verandah and from her to Monck with a touch of ferocity inhis dark eyes. Monck met the look with a frown and turned away without aword. He passed down the verandah to his own room, and Peter with handsthat shook slightly proceeded with his task. 

Tessa's sobbing died down, and there fell a strained silence. Stellastill sat in the drawing-room, but she was out of sight of the two onthe verandah. She could only hear Peter's soft movements. 

Suddenly she heard a tense whisper. "Peter! Peter! Quick!"

Like a shadow Peter crossed her line of vision. She heard a murmured, "Missy _babal_" and rising, she bent forward and saw him in the act ofsevering Tessa's bond with the bread-knife. It was done in a fewhard-breathing seconds. The child was free. Peter turned intriumph, --and found Monck standing at the other end of the verandah, looking at him. 

Stella stepped out at the same moment and saw him also. She felt theblood rush to her heart. Only once had she seen Monck look as he lookednow, and that on an occasion of which even yet she never willinglysuffered herself to think. 

Peter's triumph wilted. "Run, Missy _baba_!" he said, in a hurriedwhisper, and moved himself to meet the wrath of the gods. 

Tessa did not run. Neither did she spring to Stella for protection. Shestood for a second or two in indecision; then with an odd littlestrangled cry she darted in front of Peter, and went straight to Monck. 

"It--it wasn't Peter's fault!" she declared breathlessly. "I told himto!"

Monck's eyes went over her head to the native beyond her. He spoke--afew, brief words in the man's own language--and Peter winced as thoughhe had been struck with a whip, and bent himself in an attitude of themost profound humility. 

Monck spoke again curtly, and as if at the sudden jerk of a string theman straightened himself and went away. 

Then Tessa, weeping, threw herself upon Monck. "Do please not be angrywith him! It was all my fault. You--you--you can whip me if you like!Only you mustn't be cross with Peter! It isn't--it isn't--fair!"

He stood stiffly for a few seconds, as if he would resist her; andStella leaned against the window-frame, feeling physically sick as shewatched him. Then abruptly his eyes came to hers, and she saw his facechange. He put his hand on Tessa's shoulder. 

"If you want forgiveness for yourself--and Peter, " he said grimly, "goback to your corner and stay there!"

Tessa lifted her tear-stained face, looked at him closely for a moment, then turned submissively and went back. 

Monck came down the verandah to his wife. He put his arm around her, anddrew her within. 

"Why are you trembling?" he said. 

She leaned her head against him. "Everard, what did you say to Peter?"

"Never mind!" said Monck. 

She braced herself. "You are not to be angry with him. He--is myservant. I will reprimand him--if necessary. "

"It isn't, " said Monck, with a brief smile. "You can tell him to finishlaying the cloth. "

He kissed her and let her go, leaving her with a strong impression thatshe had behaved foolishly. If it had not been for that which she hadseen in his eyes for those few awful seconds, she would have despisedherself for her utter imbecility. But the memory was one which she couldnot shake from her. She did not wonder that even Peter, proud Sikh as hewas, had quailed before that look. Would Monck have accepted evenTessa's appeal if he had not found her watching? She wondered. Shewondered. 

She did not look forward to the meal on the verandah, but Monck realizedthis and had it laid in the dining-room instead. At his command Petercarried a plate out to Tessa, but it came back untouched, Peterexplaining in a very low voice that 'Missy _baba_ was not hungry. ' Theman's attitude was abject. He watched Monck furtively from behindStella's chair, obeying his every behest with a promptitude thatexpressed the most complete submission. 

Monck bestowed no attention upon him. He smiled a little when Stellaexpressed concern over Tessa's failure to eat anything. It was evidentthat he felt no anxiety on that score himself. "Leave the imp alone!" hesaid. "You are not to worry yourself about her any more. You have donemore than enough in that line already. "

There was insistence in his tone--an insistence which he maintainedlater when he made her lie down for her afternoon rest, steadilyrefusing to let her go near the delinquent until she had had it. 

Greatly against her will she yielded the point, protesting that shecould not sleep nevertheless. But when he had gone she realized that thehappenings of the morning had wearied her more than she knew. She wasvery tired, and she fell into a deep sleep which lasted for nearly twohours. 

Awakening from this, she got up with some compunction at having left thechild so long, and went to her window to look for her. She found thecorner of Tessa's punishment empty. A little further along the verandahMonck lounged in a deep cane chair, and, curled in his arms asleep withher head against his neck was Tessa. 

Monck's eyes were fixed straight before him. He was evidently deep inthought. But the grim lines about his mouth were softened, and even asStella looked he stirred a little very cautiously to ease the child'sposition. Something in the action sent the tears to her eyes. She wentback into her room, asking herself how she had ever doubted for a momentthe goodness of his heart. 

Somewhere down the hill the blue jay was laughing hilariously, scoffingly, as one who marked, with cynical amusement the passing showof life; and a few seconds later the Rajah's car flashed past, carryingthe Rajah and a woman wearing a cloudy veil that streamed far out behindher. 

CHAPTER VI

THE ARRIVAL

Two months later, on a dripping evening in August, Monck stood alone onthe verandah of his bungalow at Udalkhand with a letter from Stella inhis hand. He had hurried back from duty on purpose to secure it, knowingthat it would be awaiting him. She had become accustomed to theseparation now, though she spoke yearningly of his next leave. Mrs. Ralston had joined her, and she wrote quite cheerfully. She was verywell, and looking forward--oh, so much--to the winter. There wascertainly no sadness to be detected between the lines, and Monck foldedup the letter and looked across the dripping compound with a smile inhis eyes. 

When the winter came, he would probably have taken up his newappointment. Sir Reginald Bassett--a man of immense influence andenergy--was actually in Udalkhand at that moment. He was ostensiblypaying a friendly visit at the Colonel's bungalow, but Monck knew wellwhat it was that had brought him to that steaming corner of Markestan inthe very worst of the rainy season. He had come to make some definitearrangement with him. Probably before that very night was over, he wouldhave begun to gather the fruit of his ambition. He had started alreadyto climb the ladder, and he would raise Stella with him, Stella and thatother being upon whom he sometimes suffered his thoughts to dwell with asemi-humorous contemplation as--his son. A fantastic fascination hungabout the thought. He could not yet visualize himself as a father. Itwas easier far to picture Stella as a mother. But yet, like a magnetdrawing him, the vision seemed to beckon. He walked the desert with alighter step, and Tommy swore that he was growing younger. 

There was an enclosure in Stella's letter from Tessa, who called him herdarling Uncle Everard and begged him to come soon and see how good shewas getting. He smiled a little over this also, but with a touch ofwonder. The child's worship seemed extraordinary to him. His conquest ofTessa had been quite complete, but it was odd that in consequence of itshe should love him as she loved no one else on earth. Yet that she didso was an indubitable fact. Her devotion exceeded even that of Tommy, which was saying much. She seemed to regard him as a sacred being, andher greatest pleasure in life was to do him service. 

He put her letter away also, reflecting that he must manage somehow tomake time to answer it. As he did so, he heard Tommy's voice hail himfrom the compound, and in a moment the boy raced into sight, taking theverandah steps at a hop, skip, and jump. 

"Hullo, old chap! Admiring the view eh? What? Got some letters? Have youheard from your brother yet?"

"Not a word for weeks. " Monck turned to meet him. "I can't think whathas happened to him. "

"Can't you though? I can!" Tommy seized him impetuously by the shouders;he was rocking with laughter. "Oh, Everard, old boy, this beatseverything! That brother of yours is coming along the road now. And he'stravelled all the way from Khanmulla in a--in a bullock-cart!"

"What?" Monck stared in amazement. "Are you mad?" he inquired. 

"No--no. It's true! Go and see for yourself, man! They're just gettinghere, slow and sure. He must be well stocked with patience. Come on!They're stopping at the gate now. "

He dragged his brother-in-law to the steps. Monck went, half-suspiciousof a hoax. But he had barely reached the path below when through therain there came the sound of wheels and heavy jingling. 

"Come on!" yelled Tommy. "It's too good to miss!"

But ere they arrived at the gate it was blocked by a massive figure in astreaming black mackintosh, carrying a huge umbrella. "I say, " said asoft voice, "what a damn' jolly part of the world to live in!"

"Bernard!" Monck's voice sounded incredulous, yet he passed Tommy at abound. 

"Hullo, my boy, hullo!" Cheerily the newcomer made answer. "How do youopen this beastly gate? Oh, I see! Swelled a bit from the rain. I mustsee to that for you presently. Hullo, Everard! I chanced to find myselfin this direction so thought I would look up you and your wife. How areyou, my boy?"

An immense hand came forth and grasped Monck's. A merry red face beamedat him from under the great umbrella. Twinkling eyes with red lashesshone with the utmost good-will. 

Monck gripped the hand as if he would never let it go. But "My good man, you're mad to come here!" were the only words of welcome he found toutter. 

"Think so?" A humorous chuckle accompanied the words. "Well, take meindoors and give me a drink! There are a few traps in the cart outside. Had we better collect 'em first?"

"I'll see to them, " volunteered Tommy, whose sense of humour was stillsomewhat out of control. "Take him in out of the rain, Everard! Send the_khit_ along!"

He was gone with the words, and Everard, with his brother's hand pulledthrough his arm, piloted him up to the bungalow. 

In the shelter of the verandah they faced each other, the one brothersquare and powerful, so broad as to make his height appearinsignificant; the other, brown, lean, muscular, a soldier in everyline, his dark, resolute face a strange contrast to the ruddy opencountenance of the man who was the only near relation he possessed inthe world. 

"Well, --boy! I believe you've grown. " The elder brother, surveyed theyounger with his shrewd, twinkling eyes. "By Jove, I'm sure you have! Iused not to have to look up to you like this. Is it this devilishclimate that does it? And what on earth do you live on? You look apositive skeleton. "

"Oh, that's India, yes. " Everard brushed aside all personal comment assuperfluous. "Come along in and refresh! What particular star have youfallen from? And why in thunder didn't you say you were coming?"

The elder man laughed, slapping him on the shoulder with hearty force. His clean-shaven face was as free from care as a boy's. He looked as iflife had dealt kindly with him. 

"Ah, I know you, " he said. "Wouldn't you have written off post-haste--ifyou hadn't cabled--and said, 'Wait till the rains are over?' But I hadraised my anchor and I didn't mean to wait. So I dispensed with yourbrotherly counsel, and here I am! You won't find me in the way at all. I'm dashed good at effacing myself. "

"My dear good chap, " Everard said, "you're about the only man in theworld who need never think of doing that. "

Bernard's laugh was good to hear. "Who taught you to turn such a prettycompliment? Where is your wife? I want to see her. "

"You don't suppose I keep her in this filthy place, do you?" Everard waspouring out a drink as he spoke. "No, no! She has been at Bhulwana inthe Hills for the past three months. Now, St. Bernard, is this as youlike it?"

The big man took the glass, looking at him with a smile of kindlycriticism. "Well, you won't bore each other at that rate, anyhow, " heremarked. "Here's to you both! I drink to the greatest thing in life!"He drank deeply and set down the glass. "Look here! You're just off tomess. Don't let me keep you! All I want is a cold bath. And then--ifyou've got a spare shakedown of any sort--going to bed is mere ritualwith me. I can sleep on my head--anywhere. "

"You'll sleep in a decent bed, " declared Everard. "But you're comingalong to mess with me first. Oh yes, you are. Of course you are! There'san hour before us yet though. Hullo, Tommy! Let me introduce youformally to my brother! St. Bernard, --my brother-in-law Tommy Denvers. "

Tommy came in through the window and shook hands with much heartiness. 

"The _khit_ is seeing to everything. Pleased to meet you, sir! Beastlywet for you, I'm afraid, but there's worse things than rain in India. Hope you had a decent voyage. "

Bernard laughed in his easy, good-humoured fashion. "Like the niggers, I can make myself comfortable most anywheres. We had rather a foul timeafter leaving Aden. Ratting in the hold was our main excitement when weweren't sweating at the pumps. Oh no, I didn't come over in one of yourmajestic liners. I have a sailor's soul. "

A flicker of admiration shot through the merriment in Tommy's eyes. "Wish I had, " he observed. "But the very thought of the sea turns mineupside down. If you're keen on ratting, there's plenty of sport of thatkind to be had here. The brutes hold gymkhanas on the verandah every, night. I sit up with a gun sometimes when Everard is out of the way. "

"Yes, he's a peaceful person to live with, " remarked Everard. "Havesomething to eat, St. Bernard!"

"No, no, thanks! My appetite will keep. A cold bath is my most pressingneed. Can I have that?"

"Sure!" said Tommy. "You 're coming to mess with us of course? OldReggie Bassett is honouring us with his presence to-night. It will be ahistoric occasion, eh, Everard?"

He smiled upon the elder brother with obvious pleasure at the prospect. Bernard Monck always met with a welcome wherever he went, and Tommy wasprepared to like any one belonging to Everard. It was good too to seeEverard with that eager light in his eyes. During the whole of theiracquaintance he had never seen him look so young. 

Bernard held a somewhat different opinion, however, and as he foundhimself alone again with his brother he took him by the shoulders, andheld him for a closer survey. 

"What has India been doing to you, dear fellow?" he said. "You lookabout as ancient as the Sphinx. Been working like a dray-horse all thistime?"

"Perhaps. " Everard's smile held something of restraint. "We can't all ofus stand still, St. Bernard. Perpetual youth is given only to thefavoured few. "

"Ah!" The older man's eyes narrowed a little. For a moment there existeda curious, wholly indefinite, resembance between them. "And you arehappy?" he asked abruptly. 

Everard's eyes held a certain hardness as he replied, "Provisionally, yes. I haven't got all I want yet--if that's what you mean. But I am onthe way to getting it. "

Bernard Monck looked at him a moment longer, and let him go. "Are yousure you're wanting the right thing?" he said. 

It was not a question that demanded an answer, and Everard made none. Heturned aside with a scarcely perceptible lift of the shoulders. 

"You haven't told me yet how you come to be here, " he said. "Have yougiven up the Charthurst chaplaincy?"

"It gave me up. " Bernard spoke quietly, but there was deep regret in hisvoice. "A new governor came--a man of curiously rigid ideas. Anyway, Iwas not parson enough for him. We couldn't assimilate. I tried myhardest, but we couldn't get into touch anywhere. I preached the law ofDivine liberty to the captives. And he--good man! preferred to keep themsafely locked in the dungeon. I was forced to quit the position. I hadno choice. "

"What a fool!" observed Everard tersely. 

Bernard's ready smile re-appeared. "Thanks, old chap!" he said. "That'sjust the point of view I wanted you to take. Now I have other schemes onhand. I'll tell you later what they are. I think I'd better have thatcold bath next if you're really going to take me along to mess with you. By Jove, how it does rain! Does it ever leave off in these parts?"

"Not very often this time of the year. I'm not going to let you stayhere for long. " Everard spoke with his customary curt decision. "It's noplace for fellows like you. You must go to Bhulwana and join my wife. "

"Many thanks!" Bernard made a grotesque gesture of submission. "Whatsort of woman is your wife, my son? Do you think she will like me?"

Everard turned and smote him on the shoulder. "Of course she will! Shewill adore you. All women do. "

"Oh, not quite!" protested Bernard modestly. "I'm not tall enough toplease everyone of the feminine gender. But you think your wife willoverlook that?"

"I know, " said Everard, with conviction. 

His brother laughed with cheery self-satisfaction. "In that case, ofcourse I shall adore her, " he said. 

CHAPTER VII

FALSE PRETENCES

They were a merry party at mess that night. General Sir Reginald Bassettwas a man of the bluff soldierly order who knew how to command respectfrom his inferiors while at the same time he set them at their ease. There was no pomp and circumstance about him, yet in the whole of theIndian Empire there was not an officer more highly honoured and few whopossessed such wide influence as "old Sir Reggie, " as irreverentsubalterns fondly called him. 

The new arrival, Bernard Monck, diffused a genial atmosphere quiteunconsciously wherever he went, and he and the old Indian soldiergravitated towards each other almost instinctively. Colonel Mansfielddeclared later that they made it impossible for him to maintain order, so spontaneous and so infectious was the gaiety that ran round theboard. Even Major Ralston's leaden sense of humour was stirred. As Tommyhad declared, it promised to be a historic occasion. 

When the time for toasts arrived and, after the usual routine, theColonel proposed the health of their honoured guest of the evening, SirReginald interposed with a courteous request that that of their otherguest might be coupled with his, and the dual toast was drunk withacclamations. 

"I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing more of you during your stayin India, " the General remarked to his fellow-guest when he had returnedthanks and quiet was restored. "You have come for the winter, Ipresume. "

Bernard laughed. "Well, no, sir, though I shall hope to see it through. I am not globe-trotting, and times and seasons don't affect me much. Myonly reason for coming out at all was to see my brother here. You see, we haven't met for a good many years. "

The statement was quite casually made, but Major Burton, who was seatednext to him, made a sharp movement as if startled. He was a man whoprided himself upon his astuteness in discovering discrepancies in eventhe most truthful stories. 

"Didn't you meet last year when he went Home?" he said. 

"Last year! No. He wasn't Home last year. " Bernard looked full at hisquestioner, understanding neither his tone nor look. 

A sudden silence had fallen near them; it spread like a widening ringupon disturbed waters. 

Major Burton spoke, in his voice, a queer, scoffing inflection. "He wasabsent on Home leave anyway. We all understood--were given tounderstand--that you had sent him an urgent summons. "

"I?" For an instant Bernard Monck stared in genuine bewilderment. Thenabruptly he turned to his brother who was listening inscrutably on theother side of the table. "Some mistake here, Everard, " he said. "Youhaven't been Home for seven years or more have you?"

There was dead silence in the room as he put the question--a silence, sofull of expectancy as to be almost painful. Across the table the eyes ofthe two brothers met and held. 

Then, "I have not, " said Everard Monck with quiet finality. 

There was no note of challenge in his voice, neither was there anydismay. But the effect of his words upon every man present was as if hehad flung a bomb into their midst. The silence endured tensely for acouple of seconds, then there came a hard breath and a general movementas if by common consent the company desired to put an end to asituation, that had become unendurable. 

Bertie Oakes dug Tommy in the ribs, but Tommy was as white as death anddid not even feel it. Something had happened, something that made himfeel giddy and very sick. That significant silence was to him nothingshort of tragedy. He had seen his hero topple at a touch from the highpinnacle on which he had placed him, and he felt as if the very groundunder his feet had become a quicksand. 

As in a maze of shifting impressions he heard Sir Reginald valiantlycovering the sudden breach, talking inconsequently in a language whichTommy could not even recognize as his own. And the Colonel was secondinghis efforts, while Major Burton sat frowning at the end of his cigar asif he were trying to focus his sight upon something infinitesimal andelusive. No one looked at Monck, in fact everyone seemed studiously toavoid doing so. Even his brother seemed lost in meditation with his eyesfixed immovably upon a lamp that hung from the ceiling and swayedponderously in the draught. 

Then at last there came a definite move, and Bertie Oakes poked himagain. "Are you moonstruck?" he said. 

Tommy got up with the rest, still feeling sick and oddly unsure ofhimself. He pushed his brother-subaltern aside as if he had been aninanimate object, and somehow, groping, found his way to the door andout to the entrance for a breath of air. 

It was raining heavily and the odour of a thousand intangible thingshung in the atmosphere. For a space he leaned in the doorwayundisturbed; then, heralded by the smell of a rank cigar, Ralstonlounged up and joined him. 

"Are you looking for a safe corner to catch fever in?" he inquiredphlegmatically, after a pause. 

Tommy made a restless movement, but spoke no word. 

Ralston smoked for a space in silence. From behind them there came therattle of billiard-balls and careless clatter of voices. Before them wasa pall-like darkness and the endless patter of rain. 

Suddenly Ralston spoke. "Make no mistake!" he said. "There's a reasonfor everything. "

The words sounded irrelevant; they even had a sententious ring. YetTommy turned towards him with an impulsive gesture of gratitude. 

"Of course!" he said. 

Ralston relapsed into a ruminating silence. A full minute elapsed beforehe spoke again. Then: "You don't like taking advice I know, " he said, inhis stolid, somewhat gruff fashion. "But if you're wise, you'll swallowa stiff dose of quinine before you turn in. Good-night!"

He swung round on his heel and walked away. Tommy knew that he had gonefor his nightly game of chess with Major Burton and would not exchangeso much as another half-dozen words with any one during the rest of theevening. 

He himself remained for a while where he was, recovering his balance;then at length donned his mackintosh, and tramped forth into the night. Ralston was right. Doubtless there was a reason. He would stake his lifeon Everard's honour whatever the odds. 

In a quiet corner of the ante-room sat Everard Monck, deeply immersed ina paper. Near him a group of bridge-players played an almost silentgame. Sir Reginald and his brother had followed the youngsters to thebilliard-room, the Colonel had accompanied them, but after a decentinterval he left the guests to themselves and returned to the ante-room. 

He passed the bridge-players by and came to Monck. The latter glanced upat his approach. 

"Are you looking for me, sir?"

"If you can spare me a moment, I shall be glad, " the Colonel saidformally. 

Monck rose instantly. His dark face had a granite-like look as hefollowed his superior officer from the room. The bridge-players watchedhim with furtive attention, and resumed their game in silence. 

The Colonel led the way back to the mess-room, now deserted. "I shallnot keep you long, " he said, as Monck shut the door and moved forward. "But I must ask of you an explanation of the fact which came to lightthis evening. " He paused a moment, but Monck spoke no word, and hecontinued with growing coldness. "Rather more than a year ago yourefused a Government mission, for which your services were urgentlyrequired, on the plea of pressing business at Home. You had Homeleave--at a time when we were under-officered--to carry this businessthrough. Now, Captain Monck, will you be good enough to tell me how andwhere you spent that leave? Whatever you say I shall treat asconfidential. "

He still spoke formally, but the usual rather pompous kindliness of hisface had given place to a look of acute anxiety. 

Monck stood at the table, gazing straight before him. "You have aperfect right to ask, sir, " he said, after a moment. "But I am not in aposition to answer. "

"In other words, you refuse to answer?" The Colonel's voice had a raspin it, but that also held more of anxiety than anger. 

Monck turned and directly faced him. "I am compelled to refuse, " hesaid. 

There was a brief silence. Colonel Mansfield was looking at him as if hewould read him through and through. But no stone mask could have beenmore impenetrable than Monck's face as he stood stiffly waiting. 

When the Colonel spoke again it was wholly without emotion. His tonesfell cold and measured. "You obtained that leave upon false pretences?You had no urgent business?"

Monck answered him with machine-like accuracy. "Yes, sir, I deceivedyou. But my business was urgent nevertheless. That is my only excuse. "

"Was it in connection with some Secret Service requirement?" TheColonel's tone was strictly judicial now; he had banished all feelingfrom face and manner. 

And again, like a machine, Monck made his curt reply. "No, sir. "

"There was nothing official about it?"

"Nothing. "

"I am to conclude then--" again the rasp was in the Colonel's voice, butit sounded harsher now--"that the business upon which you absentedyourself was strictly private and personal?"

"It was, sir. "

The commanding officer's brows contracted heavily. "Am I also toconclude that it was something of a dishonourable nature?" he asked. 

Monck made a scarcely perceptible movement. It was as if the point hadsomehow pierced his armour. But he covered it instantly. "Yourdeductions are of your own making, sir, " he said. 

"I see. " The Colonel's tone was openly harsh. "You are ashamed to tellme the truth. Well, Captain Monck, I cannot compel you to do so. But itwould have been better for your own sake if you had taken up a lessreticent attitude. Of course I realize that there are certain shamefuloccasions regarding which any man must keep silence, but I had notthought you capable of having a secret of that description to guard. Ithink it very doubtful if General Bassett will now require your servicesupon his staff. "

He paused. Monck's hands were clenched and rigid, but he spoke no word, and gave no other sign of emotion. 

"You have nothing to say to me?" the Colonel asked, and for a moment theofficial air was gone. He spoke as one man to another and almost withentreaty. 

But, "Nothing, sir, " said Monck firmly, and the moment passed. 

The Colonel turned aside. "Very well, " he said briefly. 

Monck swung round and opened the door for him, standing as stiffly as asoldier on parade. 

He went out without a backward glance. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE WRATH OF THE GODS

It was nearly an hour later that Everard Monck and his brother left themess together and walked back through the dripping darkness to thebungalow on the hill overlooking the river. The rush of the swollenstream became audible as they drew near. The sound of it wasinexpressibly wild and desolate. 

"It's an interesting country, " remarked Bernard, breaking a silence. "Idon't wonder she has got hold of you, my son. What does your wife thinkof it? Is she too caught in the toils?"

Not by word or look had he made the smallest reference to the episode atthe mess-table. It was as if he alone of those present had wholly missedits significance. 

Everard answered him quietly, without much emphasis. "I believe my wifehates it from beginning to end. Perhaps it is not surprising. She hasbeen through a good deal since she came out. And I am afraid there is agood deal before her still. "

Bernard's big hand closed upon his arm. "Poor old chap!" lie said. "YouIndian fellows don't have any such time of it, or your women folkeither. How long is she a fixture at Bhulwana?"

"The baby is expected in two months' time. " Everard spoke withoutemotion, his voice sounded almost cold. "After that, I don't know whatwill happen. Nothing is settled. Tell me your plans now! No, wait! Let'sget in out of this damned rain first!"

They entered the bungalow and sat down for another smoke in thedrawing-room. 

Down by the river a native instrument thrummed monotonously, like thewhirring of a giant mosquito in the darkness. Everard turned with aslight gesture of impatience and closed the window. 

He established his brother in a long chair with a drink at his elbow, and sat down himself without any pretence at taking his ease. 

"You don't look particularly comfortable, " Bernard observed. 

"Don't mind me!" he made curt response. "I've got a touch of feverto-night. It's nothing. I shall be all right in the morning. "

"Sure?" Bernard's eyes suddenly ceased to be quizzical; they looked athim straight and hard. 

Everard met the look, faintly smiling. "I don't lie about--unimportantthings, " he remarked cynically. "Light up, man, and fire away!"

He struck a match for his brother's pipe and kindled his own cigarettethereat. 

There fell a brief silence. Bernard did not look wholly satisfied. Butafter a few seconds he seemed to dismiss the matter and began to talk ofhimself. 

"You want to know my plans, old chap. Well, as far as I know 'em myself, you are quite welcome. With your permission, I propose, for the present, to stay where I am. "

"I shouldn't if I were you. " Everard spoke with brief decision. "You'dbe far better off at Bhulwana till the end of the rains. "

Bernard puffed forth a great cloud of smoke and stared at the ceiling. "That is as may be, dear fellow, " he said, after a moment. "But Ithink--if you'll put up with me--I'll stay here for the present all thesame. "

He spoke in that peculiarly gentle voice of his that yet heldconsiderable resolution. Everard made no attempt to combat the decision. Perhaps he realized the uselessness of such a proceeding. 

"Stay by all means!" he said, "but what's the idea?"

Bernard took his pipe from his mouth. "I have a big fight before me, Everard boy, " he said, "a fight against the sort of prejudice thatkicked me out of the Charthurst job. It's got to be fought with thepen--since I am no street corner ranter. I have the solid outlines ofthe campaign in my head, and I have come out here to get right awayfrom things and work it out. "

"Going to reform creation?" suggested Everard, with his grim smile. 

Bernard shook his head, smiling in answer as though the cynicism had notreached him. "No, that's not my job. I am only a man underauthority--like yourself. I don't see the result at all. I only see thework, and with God's help, that will be exactly what He intended itshould be when He gave it to me to do. "

"Lucky man!" said Everard briefly. 

"Ah! I didn't think myself lucky when I had to give up the Charthurstchaplaincy. " Bernard spoke through a haze of smoke. "I'm afraid I kickeda bit at first--which was a short-sighted thing to do, I admit. But Ihad got to look on it as my life-work, and I loved it. It held suchopportunities. " He broke off with a sharp sigh. "I shall be at it againif I go on. Can't you give me something pleasanter to think about?Haven't you got a photograph of your wife to show me?"

Everard got up. "Yes, I have. But it doesn't do her justice. " He took aletter-case from his pocket and opened it. A moment he stood bent overthe portrait he withdrew from it, then turned and handed it to hisbrother. 

Bernard studied it in silence. It was an unmounted amateur photograph ofStella standing on the creeper-grown verandah of the Green Bungalow. Shewas smiling, but her eyes were faintly sad, as though shadowed by thememory of some past pain. 

For many seconds Bernard gazed upon the pictured face. Finally he spoke. 

"Your wife must be a very beautiful woman. "

"Yes, " said Everard quietly. 

He spoke gravely. His brother's eyes travelled upwards swiftly. "Thatwas not what you married her for, eh?"

Everard stooped and took the portrait from him. "Well, no--notentirely, " he said. 

Bernard smiled a little. "You haven't told me much about her, you know. How long have you been acquainted?"

"Nearly two years. I think I mentioned in my letter that she was thewidow of a comrade?"

"Yes, I remember. But you were rather vague about it. What happened tohim? Didn't he meet with a violent death?"

There was a pause. Everard was still standing with his eyes fixed uponthe photograph. His face was stern. 

"What was it?" questioned Bernard. "Didn't he fall over a precipice?"

"Yes, " abruptly the younger man made answer. "It happened in Kashmirwhen they were on their honeymoon. "

"Ah! Poor girl! She must have suffered. What was his name? Was he a palof yours?"

"More or less. " Everard's voice rang hard. "His name was Dacre. "

"Oh, to be sure. The man I wrote to you about just before poor MadelinaBelleville died in prison. Her husband's name was Dacre. He was in theArmy too, and she thought he was in India. But it's not a very uncommonname. " Bernard spoke thoughtfully. "You said he was no relation. "

"I said to the best of my belief he was not. " Everard turned suddenlyand sat down. "People are not keen, you know, on owning to shadyrelations. He was no exception to the rule. But if the woman died, it'sof no great consequence now to any one. When did she die?"

Bernard took a long pull at his pipe. His brows were slightly drawn. "She died suddenly, poor soul. Did I never tell you? It must have beenimmediately after I wrote that letter to you. It was. I remember now. Itwas the very day after.... She died on the twenty-first of March--thefirst day of spring. Poor girl! She had so longed for the spring. Hertime would have been up in May. "

Something in the silence that followed his words made him turn his headto look at his brother. Everard was sitting perfectly rigid in his chairstaring at the ground between his feet as if he saw a serpent writhingthere. But before another word could be spoken, he got up abruptly, witha gesture as of shaking off the loathsome thing, and went to the window. He flung it wide, and stood in the opening, breathing hard as a manhalf-suffocated. 

"Anything wrong, old chap?" questioned Bernard. 

He answered him without turning. "No; it's only my infernal head. Ithink I'll turn in directly. It's a fiendish night. "

The rain was falling in torrents, and a long roll of thunder soundedfrom afar. The clatter of the great drops on the roof of the verandahfilled the room, making all further conversation impossible. It was likea tattoo of devils. 

"A damn' pleasant country this!" murmured the man in the chair. 

The man at the window said no word. He was gasping a little, his face tothe howling night. 

For a space Bernard lay and watched him. Then at last, somewhatponderously he arose. 

Everard could not have heard his approach, but he was aware of it beforehe reached him. He turned swiftly round, pulling the window closedbehind him. 

They stood facing each other, and there was something tense in theatmosphere, something that was oddly suggestive of mental conflict. Thedevils' tattoo on the roof had sunk to a mere undersong, a fittingaccompaniment as it were to the electricity in the room. 

Bernard spoke at length, slowly, deliberately, but not unkindly. "Whyshould you take the trouble to--fence with me?" he said. "Is it worthit, do you think?"

Everard's face was set and grey like a stone mask. He did not speak fora moment; then curtly, noncommittally, "What do you mean?" he said. 

"I mean, " very steadily Bernard made reply, "that the scoundrel Dacre, who married Madelina Belleville and then deserted her, left her to go tothe dogs, and your brother-officer who was killed in the mountains onhis honeymoon, were one and the same man. And you knew it. "

"Well?" The words seemed to come from closed lips. There was somethingterrible in the titter quietness of its utterance. 

Bernard searched his face as a man might search the walls of anapparently impregnable fortress for some vulnerable spot. "Ah, I see, "he said, after a moment. "You must have believed Madelina to be stillalive when Dacre married. What was the date of his marriage?"

"The twenty-fifth of March. " Again the grim lips spoke without seemingto move. 

A gleam of relief crossed his brother's face. "In that case no one isany the worse. I'm sorry you've carried that bugbear about with you forso long. What an infernal hound the fellow was!"

"Yes, " assented Everard. 

He moved to the table and poured himself out a drink. 

His brother still watched him. "One might almost say his death wasprovidential, " he observed. "Of course--your wife--never knew of this?"

"No. " Everard lifted the glass to his lips with a perfectly steady handand drank. "She never will know, " he said, as he set it down. 

"Certainly not. You can trust me never to tell her. " Bernard moved tohis side, and laid a kindly hand on his shoulder. "You know you cantrust me, old fellow?"

Everard did not look at him. "Yes, I know, " he said. 

His brother's hand pressed upon him a little. "Since they are bothgone, " he said, "there is nothing more to be said on the subject. But, oh, man, stick to the truth, whatever else you let go of! You never liedto me before. "

His tone was very earnest. It held urgent entreaty. Everard turned andmet his eyes. His dark face was wholly emotionless. "I am sorry, St. Bernard, " he said. 

Bernard's kindly smile wrinkled his eyes. He grasped and held theyounger man's hand. "All right, boy. I'm going to forget it, " he said. "Now what about turning in?"

They parted for the night immediately after, the one to sleep asserenely as a child almost as soon as he lay down, the other to pace toand fro, to and fro, for hours, grappling--and grappling in vain--withthe sternest adversary he had ever had to encounter. 

For upon Everard Monck that night the wrath of the gods had descended, and against it, even his grim fortitude was powerless to make a stand. He was beaten before he could begin to defend himself, beaten and flungaside as contemptible. Only one thing remained to be fought for, andthat one thing he swore to guard with the last ounce of his strength, even at the cost of life itself. 

All through that night of bitter turmoil he came back again and again tothat, the only solid foothold left him in the shifting desert-sand. Solong as his heart should beat he would defend that one preciouspossession that yet remained, --the honour of the woman who loved him andwhom he loved as only the few know how to love. 

PART IV

CHAPTER I

DEVILS' DICE

"It's a pity, " said Sir Reginald. 

"It's a damnable pity, sir, " Colonel Mansfield spoke with bluntemphasis. "I have trusted the fellow almost as I would have trustedmyself. And he has let me down. "

The two were old friends. The tie of India bound them both. Though theirways lay apart and they met but seldom, the same spirit was in them andthey were as comrades. They sat together in the Colonel's office thatlooked over the streaming parade-ground. A gleam of morning sunshine hadpierced the clouds, and the smoke of the Plains went up like a furnace. 

"I shouldn't be too sure of that, " said Sir Reginald, after a thoughtfulmoment. "Things are not always what they seem. One is apt to repent of ahasty judgment. "

"I know. " The Colonel spoke with his eyes upon the rising cloud of steamoutside. "But this fellow has always had my confidence, and I can't getover what he himself admits to have been a piece of double-dealing. Isuppose it was a sudden temptation, but he had always been so straightwith me; at least I had always imagined him so. He has rendered someinvaluable services too. "

"That is partly why I say, don't be too hasty, " said Sir Reginald. "Wecan't afford--India can't afford--to scrap a single really useful man. "

"Neither can she afford to make use of rotters, " rejoined the Colonel. 

Sir Reginald smiled a little. "I am not so sure of that, Mansfield. Eventhe rotters have their uses. But I am quite convinced in my own mindthat this man is very far from being one. I feel inclined to go slow fora time and give him a chance to retrieve himself. Perhaps it may soundsoft to you, but I have never floored a man at his first slip. And thisman has a clean record behind him. Let it stand him in good stead now!"

"It will take me some time to forget it, " the Colonel said. "I canforgive almost anything except deception. And that I loathe. "

"It isn't pleasant to be cheated, certainly, " Sir Reginald agreed. "Whendid this happen? Was he married at the time?"

"No. " The Colonel meditated for a few seconds "He only married lastspring. This was considerably more than a year ago. It must have beenthe spring of the preceding year. Yes, by Jove, it was! It was just atthe time of poor Dacre's marriage. Dacre, you know, married youngDenvers' sister--the girl who is now Monck's wife. Dacre was killed onhis honeymoon only a fortnight after the wedding. You remember that, Burton?" He turned abruptly to the Major who had entered while he wasspeaking. 

Burton came to a stand at the table. His eyes were set very closetogether, and they glittered meanly as he made reply. "I remember itvery well indeed. His death coincided with this mysterious leave ofMonck's, and also with the unexpected absence of our man Rustam Karinjust at a moment when Barnes particularly needed him. "

"Who is Rustam Karin?" asked Sir Reginald. 

"A police agent. A clever man. I may say, an invaluable man. " ColonelMansfield was looking hard at the Major's ferret-like face as he madereply. "No one likes the fellow. He is suspected of being a leper. Buthe is clever. He is undoubtedly clever. I remember his absence. It wasat the time of that mission to Khanmulla, the mission I wanted Monck totake in hand. "

"Exactly. " Major Burton rapped out the word with a sound like thecracking of a nut. "We--or rather Barnes--tried to pump Hafiz about it, but he was a mass of ignorance and lies. I believe the old brute turnedup again before Monck's return, but he wasn't visible till afterwards. He and Monck have always been thick as thieves--thick as thieves. " Hepaused, looking at Sir Reginald. "A very fishy transaction, sir, " heobserved. 

Sir Reginald's eyes met his. "Are you, " he said calmly, "trying toestablish any connection between the death of Dacre and the absence fromKurrumpore of this man Rustam Karin?"

"Not only Rustam Karin, sir, " responded the Major sharply. 

"Ah! Quite so. How did Dacre die?" Sir Reginald still spoke quietly, judicially. There was nothing encouraging in his aspect. 

Burton hesitated momentarily, as if some inner warning prompted him togo warily. 

"That was what no one knew for certain, sir. He disappeared one night. The story went that he fell over a precipice. Some old native beggartold the tale. No one knows who the man was. "

"But you have your eye upon Rustam Karin?" suggested Sir Reginald. 

Burton hesitated again. "One doesn't trust these fellows, sir, " he said. 

"True!" Sir Reginald's voice sounded very dry. "Perhaps it is a mistaketo trust any one too far. This is all the evidence you can muster?"

"Yes, sir. " Burton looked suddenly embarrassed. "Of course it is notevidence, strictly speaking, " he said. "But when mysteries coincide, oneis apt to link them together. And the death of Captain Dacre alwaysseemed to me highly mysterious. "

"The death of Captain Ermsted was no less so, " put in the Colonelabruptly. "Have you any theories on that subject also?"

Burton smiled, showing his teeth. "I always have theories, " he said. 

Sir Reginald made a slight movement of impatience. "I think this isbeside the point, " he said. "Captain Ermsted's murderer will probably betraced one day. "

"Probably, sir, " agreed Major Burton, "since I hear unofficially thatCaptain Monck has the matter in hand. Ah!"

He broke off short as, with a brief knock at the door, Monck himselfmade an abrupt appearance. 

He came forward as if he saw no one in the room but the Colonel. Hisface wore a curiously stony look, but his eyes burned with a fierceintensity. He spoke without apology or preliminary of any sort. 

"I have just had a message, sir, from Bhulwana, " he said. "I wish toapply for immediate leave. "

The Colonel looked at him in surprise. "A message, Captain Monck?"

"From my wife, " Monck said, and drew a hard breath between his teeth. His hands were clenched hard at his sides. "I've got to go!" he said. "I've got to go!"

There was a moment's silence. Then: "May I see the message?" said theColonel. 

Monck's eyelids flickered sharply, as if he had been struck across theface. He thrust out his right hand and flung a crumpled paper upon thetable. "There, sir!" he said harshly. 

There was violence in the action, but it did not hold insolence. SirReginald leaning forward, was watching him intently. As the Colonel, with a word of excuse to himself, took up and opened the paper, he rosequietly and went up to Monck. Thin, wiry, grizzled, he stopped besidehim. 

Major Burton retired behind the Colonel, realizing himself asunnecessary but too curious to withdraw altogether. 

In the pause that followed, a tense silence reigned. Monck was swayingas he stood. His eyes had the strained and awful look of a man with hissoul in torment. After that one hard breath, he had not breathed at all. 

The Colonel looked up. "Go, certainly!" he said, and there was a touchof the old kindliness in his voice that he tried to restrain. "And assoon as possible! I hope you will find a more reassuring state ofaffairs when you get there. "

He held out the telegram. Monck made a movement to take it, but as hedid so the tension in which he gripped himself suddenly gave way. Heblundered forward, his hands upon the table. 

"She will die, " he said, and there was utter despair in his tone. "Sheis probably dead already. "

Sir Reginald took him by the arm. His face held nought but kindliness, which he made no attempt to hide. "Sit down a minute!" he said. "Here'sa chair! Just a minute. Sit down and get your wind! What is thismessage? May I read it?"

He murmured something to Major Burton who turned sharply and went out. Monck sank heavily into the chair and leaned upon the table, his head inhis hands. He was shaking all over, as if seized with an ague. 

Sir Reginald read the message, standing beside him, a hand upon hisshoulder. "Stella desperately ill. Come. Ralston, " were the words itcontained. 

He laid the paper upon the table, and looked across at the Colonel. Thelatter nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly. 

Monck spoke without moving. "She is dead, " he said. "My God! She isdead!" And then, under his breath, "After all, --counting me out--it'sbest--it's best. I couldn't ask for anything better at this devils'game. Someone's got to die. "

He checked himself abruptly, and again a terrible shivering seized him. 

Sir Reginald bent over him. "Pull yourself together, man! You'll needall your strength. Please God, she'll be better when you get there!"

Monck raised himself with a slow, blind movement. "Did you ever dicewith the devil?" he said. "Stake your honour--stake all you'd got--tosave a woman from hell? And then lose--my God--lose all--even--even--thewoman?" Again he checked himself. "I'm talking like a damned fool. Stopme, someone! I've come through hell-fire and it's scorched away mysenses. I never thought I should blab like this. "

"It's all right, " Sir Reginald said, and in his voice was steadyreassurance. "You're with friends. Get a hold on yourself! Don't say anymore!"

"Ah!" Monck drew a deep breath and seemed to come to himself. He lifteda face of appalling whiteness and looked at Sir Reginald. "You're verygood, sir, " he said. "I was knocked out for the moment. I'm all rightnow. "

He made as if he would rise, but Sir Reginald checked him. "Wait amoment longer! Major Burton will be back directly. "

"Major Burton?" questioned Monck. 

"I sent him for some brandy to steady your nerves, " Sir Reginald said. 

"You're very good, " Monck said again. He leaned his head on his hand andsat silent. 

Major Burton returned with Tommy hovering anxiously behind him. The boyhesitated a little upon entering, but the Colonel called him in. 

"You had better see the message too, " he said. "Your sister is ill. Captain Monck is going to her. "

Tommy read the message with one eye upon Monck, who drank the brandyBurton brought and in a moment stood up. 

"I am sorry to have made such a fool of myself, sir, " he said to SirReginald, with a faint, grim smile. "I shall not forget your kindness, though I hope you will forget my idiocy. "

Sir Reginald looked at him closely for a second. His grizzled face wasstern. Yet he held out his hand. 

"Good-bye, Captain Monck!" was all he said. 

Monck stiffened. The smile passed from his face, leaving it inscrutable, granite-like in its composure. It was as the donning of a mask. 

"Good-bye, sir!" he said briefly, as he shook hands. 

Tommy moved to his side impulsively. He did not utter a word, but asthey went out his hand was pushed through Monck's arm in the oldconfidential fashion, the old eager affection was shining in his eyes. 

"He has one staunch friend, anyhow, " Sir Reginald muttered to theColonel. 

"Yes, " the Colonel answered gravely. "He has done a good deal for youngDenvers. It's the boy's turn to make good now. There isn't much left himbesides. "

"Poor devil!" said Sir Reginald. 

CHAPTER II

OUT OF THE DARKNESS

"You said Everard was coming. Why doesn't he come? It's very dark--it'svery dark! Can he have missed the way?"

Feebly, haltingly, the words seemed to wander through the room, breakinga great silence as it were with immense effort. Mrs. Ralston bent overthe bed and whispered hushingly that it was all right, all right, Everard would be there soon. 

"But why does he take so long?" murmured Stella. "It's getting darkerevery minute. And it's so steep. I keep slipping--slipping. I know hewould hold me up. " And then after a moment, "Oh, Mary, am I dying? Ibelieve I am. But--he--wouldn't let me die. "

Mrs. Ralston's hand closed comfortingly upon hers. "You're quite safe, dearest, " she said. "Don't be afraid!"

"But it's so dreadfully dark, " Stella said restlessly. "I shouldn't mindif I could see the way. But I can't--I can't. "

"Be patient, darling!" said Mrs. Ralston very tenderly. "It will belighter presently. "

It was growing very late. She herself was listening for every sound, hoping against hope to hear the firm quiet step of the man who alonecould still her charge's growing distress. 

"It would be so dreadful to miss him, " moaned Stella. "I have waited solong. Mary, why don't they light a lamp?"

A shaded lamp was burning on the table by the bed. Mrs. Ralston turnedand lifted the shade. But Stella shook her head with a weary discontent. 

"That doesn't help. It's in the desert that I mean--so that he shan'tmiss me when he comes. "

"He cannot miss you, darling, " Mrs. Ralston assured her; but in her ownheart she doubted. For the doctor had told her that he did not think shewould live through the night. 

Again she strained her ears to listen. She had certainly heard a soundoutside the door; but it might be only Peter who, she knew, crouchedthere, alert for any service. 

It was Peter; but it was not Peter only, for even as she listened, thehandle of the door turned softly and someone entered. She looked upeagerly and saw the doctor. 

He was a thin, grey man for whom she entertained privately a certainfeeling of contempt. She was so sure her own husband would have somehowmanaged the case better. He came to the bedside, and looked at Stella, looked closely; then turned to her friend watching beside her. 

"I wonder if it would disturb her to see her husband for a moment, " hesaid. 

Mrs. Ralston suppressed a start with difficulty. "Is he here?" shewhispered. 

"Just arrived, " he murmured back, and turned again to look at Stella wholay motionless with closed eyes, scarcely seeming to breathe. 

Mrs. Ralston's whisper smote the silence, and it was the doctor's turnto start. "Send him in at once!" she said. 

So insistent was her command that he stood up as if he had been proddedinto action. Mrs. Ralston was on her feet. She waved an urgent hand. 

"Go and get him!" she ordered almost fiercely. "It's the only chanceleft. Go and fetch him!"

He looked at her doubtfully for a second, then, impelled by an authoritythat overrode every scruple, he turned in silence and tiptoed from theroom. 

Mrs. Ralston's eyes followed him with scorn. How was it some doctorsmanaged--notwithstanding all their experience--to be such hopelessidiots?

The soft opening of the door again a few seconds later banished herirritation. She turned with shining welcome in her look, and met Monckwith outstretched hands. 

"You're in time, " she said. 

He gripped her hands hard, but he scarcely looked at her. In a moment hewas bending over the bed. 

"Stella girl! Stella!" he said. 

"Everard!" The weak voice thrilled like a loosened harp-string, and theman's dark face flashed into sudden passionate tenderness. 

He went down upon his knees beside the bed and gathered her to hisbreast. She clung to him feebly, her lips turned to his. 

"My darling--oh, my darling--have you come at last?" she whispered. "Hold me--hold me!--Don't let me die!"

He held her closer and closer to his heart, so that its fierce throbbingbeat against her own. "You shan't die, " he said, "you can't die--with mehere. "

She laughed a little, sobbingly. "You saved Tommy--twice over. I knewyou would save me--if you came in time. Oh, darling, how I have wantedyou! It's been--so dark and terrible. "

"But you held on!" Monck's voice was very low; it came with a manifesteffort. He was holding her to his breast as if he could never let hergo. 

"Yes, I held on. I knew--I knew--how--how it would hurt you--to find megone. " Her trembling hands moved fondly about his head and finallyclasped his neck. "It's all right now, " she said, with a sigh of deepcontent. 

Monck's lips pressed hers again and again, and Mrs. Ralston went away tothe window to hide her tears. "Please, God, don't separate them now!"she whispered. 

It was many minutes later that Stella spoke again, softly, into Monck'sear. "Everard--darling husband--the baby--our baby--don't you--wouldn'tyou like to see it?"

"The baby!" He spoke as if startled. Somehow he had concluded from thefirst that the baby would be dead, and the rapture of finding her stillliving had driven the thought of everything else from his mind. 

"Don't move!" whispered Stella, clasping him closer. "Ask them to bringit!"

He spoke over his shoulder to Mrs. Ralston, his voice oddly cold, almostreluctant. "Would you be good enough to bring the baby in?"

She turned at once, smiling upon him shakily. But his dark face remainedwholly inscrutable, wholly unresponsive. There was something about himthat smote her with a curious chill, but she told herself that he wasworn out with hard travel and anxiety as she went from the room tocomply with his curt request. 

Lying against his shoulder, Stella whispered a few halting sentences. "It--happened so suddenly. The Rajah drives so fiercely--like a manpossessed. And the car skidded on the hill. Netta Ermsted was in it, andshe screamed, and I--I was terrified because Tessa--Tessa--bravemite--sprang in front of me. I don't know what she thought she could do. I think partly she was angry, and lost her head. And she meant--tohelp--to protect me--somehow. After that, I fainted--and when I cameround, they had brought me back here. That was ever so long ago. " Sheshuddered convulsively. "I've been through a lot since then. "

Monck's teeth closed upon his lip. He had not suspected an accident. 

Tremulously Stella went on. "It--was so much too soon. Iwas--dreadfully--afraid for the poor wee baby. But the doctor said--thedoctor said--it was all right--only small. And oh, Everard--" her voicethrilled again with a quivering joy--"it is a boy. I so wanted--ason--for you. "

"God bless you!" he said almost inarticulately, and kissed her whiteface again burningly, even with violence. She smiled at his intensity, though it made her gasp. "I know--I know--you will be great, " she said. "And--your son--must carry on your greatness. He shall learn tolove--the Empire--as you do. We will teach him together--you and I. "

"Ah!" Monck said, and drew the hard breath of a man struggling in deepwaters. 

Mrs. Ralston returned softly with a white bundle in her arms, andStella's hold relaxed. Her heavy lids brightened eagerly. 

"My dear, " Mrs. Ralston said, "the doctor has commanded me to turn yourhusband out immediately. He must just peep at the darling baby and go. "

"Tell him to go himself--to blazes!" said Monck forcibly, and thenreached up, still curiously grim to Mrs. Ralston's observing eyes, and, without rising from his knees, took his child into his arms. 

He laid it against the mother's breast, and tenderly uncovered the tiny, sleeping face. 

"Oh, Everard!" she said. 

And Mrs. Ralston turned away with a little sob. She did not believe anylonger that Stella would die. The sweet, thrilling happiness of hervoice seemed somehow to drive out the very thought of death. She hadnever in her life seen any one so supremely happy. But yet--though shewas reassured--there was something else in the atmosphere that disturbedher. She could not have said wherefore, but she was sorry forMonck--deeply, poignantly sorry. She was certain, with that innerconviction that needs no outer evidence, that it was more than wearinessand the strain of anxiety that had drawn those deep lines about his eyesand mouth. He looked to her like a man who had been smitten down in thepride of his strength, and who knew his case to be hopeless. 

As for Monck, he went through his ordeal unflinching, suffering as fewmen are called upon to suffer and hiding it away without a quiver. Allthrough the hours of his journeying, he had been prepared to face--hehad actually expected--- the worst. All through those hours he hadbattled to reach her indeed, straining every faculty, resisting withalmost superhuman strength every obstacle that arose to bar hisprogress. But he had not thought to find her, and throughout thelong-drawn-out effort he had carried in his locked heart the knowledgethat if when he came at last to her bedside he found her--this womanwhom he loved with all the force of his silent soul--white and cold indeath, it would be the best fate that he could wish her, the best thingthat could possibly happen, so far as mortal sight could judge, foreither. 

But so it had not been. At the very Gate of Death she had waited for hiscoming, and now he knew in his heart that she would return. The lovebetween them was drawing her, and the man's heart in him battledfiercely to rejoice even while wrung with the anguish of that secretknowledge. 

He hardly knew how he went through those moments which to her were suchpure ecstasy. The blood was beating wildly in his brain, and he thoughtof that devils' tattoo on the roof at Udalkhand when first that dreadfulknowledge had sprung upon him like an evil thing out of the night. Buthe held himself in an iron grip; he forced his mind to clearness. Evento himself he would not seem to be aware of the agony that tore him. 

They whispered together for a while over the baby's head, but he neverremembered afterwards what passed or how long he knelt there. Only atlast there came a silence that drifted on and on and he knew thatStella was asleep. 

Later Mrs. Ralston stooped over him and took the baby away, and he laidhis head down upon the pillow by Stella's and wished with all his soulthat the Gate before which her feet had halted would open to them both. 

Someone came up behind them, and stood for a few seconds looking downupon them. He was aware of a presence, but he knelt on withoutstirring--as one kneeling entranced in a sacred place. Then two hands heknew grasped him firmly by the shoulders, raising him; he looked uphalf-dazed into his brother's face. 

"Come along, old chap!" Bernard whispered. "You mustn't faint in here. "

The words roused him. The old sardonic smile showed for a moment abouthis lips. He faint! But he had not slept for two nights. That wouldaccount for that curious top-heavy feeling that possessed him. Hesuffered Bernard to help him up, --good old Bernard who had watched overhim like a mother refusing flatly to remain behind, waiting upon himhand and foot at every turn. 

"You come into the next room!" he whispered. "You shall be calledimmediately if she wakes and wants you. But you'll crumple up if youdon't rest. "

There was truth in the words. Everard realized it as he went from theroom, leaning blindly upon the stout, supporting arm. His wearinesshung upon him like an overwhelming weight. 

He submitted himself almost mechanically to his brother's ordering, feeling as if he moved in a dream. As in a dream also he saw Peter atthe door move, noiseless as a shadow, to assist him on the other side. And he tried to laugh off his weakness, but the laugh stuck in histhroat. 

Then he found himself in a chair drinking a stiff mixture of brandy andwater, again at Bernard's behest, while Bernard stood over him, watchingwith the utmost kindness in his blue eyes. 

The spirit steadied him. He came to himself, sat up slowly, and motionedPeter from the room. He was his own master again. He turned to hisbrother with a smile. 

"You're a friend in need, St. Bernard. That dose has done me good. Openthe window, old fellow, will you? Let's have some air!"

Bernard flung the window wide, and the warm wet air blew in laden withthe fragrance of the teeming earth. Everard turned his face to it, drawing in great breaths. The dawn was breaking. 

"She is better?" Bernard questioned, after a few moments. 

"Yes. I believe she has turned the corner. " Everard spoke withoutturning. His eyes were fixed. 

"Thank God!" said Bernard gently. 

Everard's right hand made a curious movement. It was as if it closedupon a weapon. "You can do that part, " he said, and he spoke withconstraint. "But you'd do it in any case. It's a way you've got. See thelight breaking over there? It's like a sword--turning all ways. " He rosewith an obvious effort and passed his hand across his eyes. "What ofyou, man?" he said. "Have they been looking after you?"

"Oh, never mind me!" Bernard rejoined. "Have something to eat and turnin! Yes, of course I'll join you with pleasure. " He clapped anaffectionate hand upon his brother's shoulder. "It's a boy, I'm told. Old fellow, I congratulate you--may he be a blessing to you all yourlives! I'll drink his health if it isn't too early. "

Everard broke into a brief, discordant laugh. "You'd better go tochurch, St. Bernard, " he said, "and pray for us!"

He swung away abruptly with the words and crossed the room. Thecrystal-clear rays of the new day smote full upon him as he moved, andBernard saw for the first time that his hair was streaked with grey. 

CHAPTER III

PRINCESS BLUEBELL

To Bernard, sprawling at his ease with a pipe on the verandah some hourslater, the appearance of a small girl with bare brown legs and a veryabbreviated white muslin frock, hugging an unwilling mongoose to herbreast, came as a surprise; for she entered as one who belonged to theestablishment. 

"Who are you, please?" she demanded imperiously, halting before himwhile she disentangled the unfortunate Scooter's rebellious legs fromher hair. 

Bernard sat up and removed his pipe. Meeting eyes of the darkest, intensest blue that he had ever seen, he gave her appropriate greeting, "Good morning, Princess Bluebell! I am a humble, homeless beggar, atpresent living upon the charity of my brother, Captain Monck. "

She came a step nearer. "Why do you call me that? You are not CaptainMonck's brother really, are you?"

He spread out his hands with a deprecating gesture. "I never contradictroyal ladies, Princess, but I have always been taught to believe so. "

"Why do you call me Princess?" she asked, halting between suspicion andgratification. 

"Because it is quite evident that you are one. There is a--bossinessabout you that proclaims the fact aloud. " Bernard smiled upon her--thesmile of open goodfellowship. "Beggars always know princesses when theysee them, " he said. 

She scrutinized him severely for a moment or two, then suddenly meltedinto a gleaming, responsive smile that illuminated her little pale facelike a shaft of sunlight. She came close to him, and very graciouslyproffered Scooter for a caress. "You needn't be afraid of him. Hedoesn't bite, " she said. 

"I suppose he is a bewitched prince, is he?" asked Bernard, as hestroked the furry little animal. 

The great blue eyes were still fixed upon him. "No, " said Tessa, after athoughtful moment or two. "He's only a mongoose. But I think you are abewitched prince. You're so big. And they always pretend to be beggarstoo, " she added. 

"And the princesses always fall in love with them before they find out, "said Bernard, looking quizzical. 

Tessa frowned a little. "I don't think falling in love is a very nicegame, " she said. "I've seen a lot of it. "

"Have you indeed?" Bernard's eyes screwed up for a moment, but werehastily restored to an expression of becoming gravity. "I don't knowmuch about it myself, " he said. "You see, I'm an old bachelor. "

"Haven't you--ever--been in love?" asked Tessa incredulously. 

He held out his hand to her. "Yes, I'm in love at the presentmoment--quite the worst sort too--love at first sight. "

"You are rather old, aren't you?" said Tessa dispassionately, but shelaid her hand in his notwithstanding. 

"Quite old enough to be kissed, " he assured her, drawing her gently tohim. "Shall I tell you a secret? I'm rather fond of kissing littlegirls. "

Tessa went into the circle of his arm with complete confidence. "I don'tmind kissing white men, " she said, and held up her red lips. "But Iwouldn't kiss an Indian--not even Peter, and he's a darling. "

"A very wise rule, Princess, " said Bernard. "And I feel duly honoured. "

"How is my darling Aunt Stella this morning?" demanded Tessa suddenly. "You made me forget. _Ayah_ said she would be all right, but _Ayah_ saysjust anything. Is she all right?"

"She is better, " Bernard said. "But wait a minute!" He caught her arm asshe made an impetuous movement to leave him. "I believe she's asleepjust now. You don't want to wake her?"

Tessa turned upon him swiftly--wide horror in her eyes. "Is that yourway of telling me she is dead?" she said in a whisper. 

"No, no, child!" Bernard's reply came with instant reassurance. "But shehas been--she still is--ill. She was upset, you know. Someone in a carstartled her. "

"I know I was there. " Tessa came close to him again, speaking in a tenseundertone; her eyes gleamed almost black. "It was the Rajah thatfrightened her so--the Rajah--and my mother. I'm never going to ask Godto bless her again. I--hate her! And him too!"

There was such concentrated vindictiveness in her words that evenBernard, who had looked upon many bitter things, was momentarilystartled. 

"I think God would be rather sorry to hear you say that, " he remarked, after a moment. "He likes little girls to pray for their mothers. "

"I don't see why, " said Tessa rebelliously, "not if He hasn't given themgood ones. Mine isn't good. She's very, very bad. "

"Then there's all the more reason to pray for her, " said Bernard. "It'sthe least you can do. But I don't think you ought to say that of yourmother, you know, even if you think it. It isn't loyal. "

"What's loyal?" said Tessa. 

"Loyalty is being true to any one--not telling tales about them. It'sabout the only thing I learnt at school worth knowing. " Bernard smiledat her in his large way. "Never tell tales of anyone, Princess!" hesaid. "It isn't cricket. Now look here! I've an awfully interestingpiece of news for you. Come quite close, and I'll whisper. Do youknow--last night--when Aunt Stella was lying ill, something happened. Anangel came to see her. "

"An angel!" Tessa's eyes grew round with wonder, and bluer than thebluest bluebell. "What was he like?" she whispered breathlessly. "Didyou see him?"

"No, I didn't. I think it was a she, " Bernard whispered back. "And whatdo you think she brought? But you'll never guess. "

"Oh, what?" gasped Tessa, trembling. 

Bernard's arm slipped round her, and Scooter with a sudden violenteffort freed himself, and was gone. 

"Never mind! I can get him again, " said Tessa. "Or Peter will. Tellme--quick!"

"She brought--" Bernard was speaking softly into her ear---"a littleboy-baby. Think of that! A present straight from God!"

"Oh, how lovely!" Tessa gazed at him with shining eyes. "Is it here now?May I see it? Is the angel still here?"

"No, the angel has gone. But the baby is left. It is Stella's very own, and she is to take care of it. "

"Oh, I hope she'll let me help her!" murmured Tessa in awe-struckaccents. "Does Uncle Everard know yet?"

"Yes. He and I got here in the night two or three hours after the babyarrived. He was very tired, poor chap. He is resting. "

"And the baby?" breathed Tessa. 

"Mrs. Ralston is taking care of the baby. I expect it's asleep, " saidBernard. "So we'll keep very quiet. "

"But she'll let me see it, won't she?" said Tessa anxiously. 

"No doubt she will, Princess. But I shouldn't disturb them yet. It'searly you know. "

"Mightn't I just go in and kiss Uncle Everard?" pleaded Tessa. "I lovehim so very much. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. "

"Let him rest a bit longer!" advised Bernard. "He is worn out. Sit downhere, on the arm of my chair, and tell me about yourself! Where have youcome from?"

Tessa jerked her head sideways. "Down there. We live at The Grand Stand. We've been there a long time now, nearly ever since Daddy went away. He's in Heaven. A _budmash_ shot him in the jungle. Mother made a greatfuss about it at the time, but she doesn't care now she can go motoringwith the Rajah. He is a nasty beast, " said Tessa with emphasis. "Ialways did hate him. And he frightened my darling Aunt Stella at thegate yesterday. I--could have--killed him for it. "

"What did he do?" asked Bernard. 

"I don't know quite; but the car twisted round on the hill, and AuntStella thought it was going to upset. I tried to take care of her, butwe were both nearly run over. He's a horrid man!" Tessa declared. "Hecaught hold of me the other day because I got between him and Motherwhen they were sitting smoking together. And I bit him. " Vindictivesatisfaction sounded in Tessa's voice. "I bit him hard. He soon let goagain. "

"Wasn't he angry?" asked Bernard. 

"Oh, yes, very angry. So was Mother. She told him he might whip me if heliked. Fancy being whipped by a native!" High scorn thrilled in thewords. "But he didn't. He laughed in his slithery way and showed histeeth like a jackal and said--and said--I was too pretty to be whipped. "Tessa ground her teeth upon the memory. It was evidently even-morehumiliating than the suggested punishment. "And then he kissed me--hekissed me--" she shuddered at the nauseating recollection--"and let mego. "

Bernard was listening attentively. His eyes were less kindly than usual. They had a steely look. "I should keep out of his way, if I were you, "he said. 

"I will--I do!" declared Tessa. "But I do hate the way he goes on withMother. He'd never have dared if Daddy had been here. "

"He is evidently a bounder, " said Bernard. 

They sat for some time on the verandah, growing pleasantly intimate, till presently Peter came out with an early breakfast for Bernard. Heinvited Tessa to join him, which she consented to do with alacrity. 

"We must find Scooter afterwards, " she said, as she proudly poured outhis coffee. "And then perhaps, if I keep good, Aunt Mary will let me seethe baby. "

"Wonder if you will manage to keep good till then, " observed a voicebehind them. 

She turned with a squeak of delight and sprang to meet Everard. 

He was looking haggard in the morning light, but he smiled upon her in away she had never seen before, and he stooped and kissed her with atenderness that amazed her. 

"Stella tells me you were very brave yesterday, " he said. 

"Was I? When?" Tessa opened her blue eyes to their widest extent. "Oh, Iwas only--angry, " she said then. "Darling Aunt Stella was frightened. "

He patted her shoulder. "You meant to take care of her, so I'm gratefulall the same, " he said. 

Tessa clung to his arm. "I'd like to come and take care of her always, "she said, rather wistfully. "I can easily be spared, Uncle Everard. AndI'm really not nearly so naughty as I used to be. "

He smiled at the words, but did not respond. "Where's Scooter?" he said. 

They spent some time hunting for him, but it was left to Peter finallyto unearth him, for in the middle of the search Mrs. Ralston came softlyout upon the verandah with the baby in her arms, and at once all Tessa'sthoughts were centred upon the new arrival. She had never before seenanything so tiny, so red, or so utterly beautiful!

Bernard left his breakfast to join the circle of admirers, and when thedoctor arrived a few minutes later he was in triumphant possession ofthe small bundle that held them all spellbound. He knew how to handle ababy, and was extremely proud of the accomplishment. 

It was not till two days later, however, that he was admitted to see themother. She had turned the corner, they said, but she was terribly weak. Yet, as soon as she heard of the presence of her brother-in-law, sheinsisted upon seeing him. 

Everard brought him in to her, but for the first time in her life shedismissed him when the introduction was effected. 

"We shall get on better alone, " she said, with a smile. "You comeback--afterwards. "

So Everard withdrew, and Bernard sat down by her side, his big handholding hers. 

"That is nice, " she said, her pale face turned to him. "I have beenwanting to know you ever since Everard first told me of you. "

He bent with a little smile and kissed the slender fingers he held. "Then the desire has been mutual, " he said. 

"Thank you. " Stella's eyes were fixed upon his face. "I was afraid, "she said, with slight hesitation, "that you might think--when you sawEverard--that marriage hadn't altogether agreed with him. "

Bernard's kindly blue eyes met hers with absolute directness. "No, Ishouldn't have thought that, " he said. "But I see a change in him ofcourse. He is growing old much too fast. What is it? Overwork?"

"I don't know. " She still spoke with hesitation. "I think it is a gooddeal--anxiety. "

"Ah!" Bernard's hand closed very strongly upon hers. "He is not the onlyperson that suffers from that complaint, I think. "

She smiled rather wanly. "I ought not to worry. It's wrong, isn't it?"

"It's unnecessary, " he said. "And it's a handicap to progress. But it'sdifficult not to when things go wrong, I admit. We need to keep a verytight hold on faith. And even then--"

"Yes, even then--" Stella said, her lips quivering a little--"when theone beloved is in danger, who can be untroubled?"

"We are all in the same keeping, " said Bernard gently. "I think that'sworth remembering. If we can trust ourselves to God, we ought to be ableto trust even the one beloved to His care. "

Stella's eyes were full of tears. "I am afraid I don't know Him wellenough to trust Him like that, " she said. 

Bernard leant towards her. "My dear, " he said, "it is only by faiththat you can ever come to knowledge. You have to trust withoutdefinitely knowing. Knowledge--that inner certainty--comes afterwards, always afterwards. You can't get it for yourself. You can only pray forit, and prepare the ground. "

Her fingers pressed his feebly. "I wonder, " she said, "if you have everknown what it was to walk in darkness. "

Bernard smiled. "Yes, I have floundered pretty deep in my time, " hesaid. "There's only one thing for it, you know; just to keep on till thelight comes. You'll find, when the lamp shines across the desert atlast, that you're not so far out of the track after all--if you're onlykeeping on. That's the main thing to remember. "

"Ah!" Stella sighed. "I believe you could help me a lot. "

"Delighted to try, " said Bernard. 

But she shook her head. "No, not now, not yet. I want you--to take careof Everard for me. "

"Can't he take care of himself?" questioned Bernard. "I thought I hadtaught him to be fairly independent. "

"Oh, it isn't that, " she said. "It is--it is--India. "

He leaned nearer to her, the smile gone from his eyes. "I thought so, "he said. "You needn't be afraid to speak out to me. I am discretionitself, especially where he is concerned. What has India been doing tohim?"

With a faint gesture she motioned him nearer still. Her face was verypale, but resolution was shining in her eyes. "Don't let us bedisturbed!" she whispered. "And I--I will tell you--all I know. "

CHAPTER IV

THE SERPENT IN THE DESERT

The battalion was ordered back to Kurrumpore for the winter months, ostensibly to go into a camp of exercise, though whispers of some deepermotive for the move were occasionally heard. Markestan, though outwardlycalm and well-behaved, was not regarded with any great confidence by theGovernment, so it was said, though, officially, no one had the smallestsuspicion of danger. 

It was with mixed feelings that Stella returned at length to The GreenBungalow, nearly three months after her baby's birth. During that timeshe had seen a good deal of her brother-in-law, who, nothing daunted bythe discomforts of the journey, went to and fro several times betweenBhulwana and the Plains. They had become close friends, and Stella hadgrown to regard his presence as a safeguard and protection against thenameless evils that surrounded Everard, though she could not have saidwherefore. 

He it was who, with Peter's help, prepared the bungalow for her coming. It had been standing empty all through the hot weather and the rains. The compound was a mass of overgrown verdure, and the bungalow itselfwas in some places thick with fungus. 

When Stella came to it, however, all the most noticeable traces ofneglect had been removed. The place was scrubbed clean. The ragged roseshad been trained along the verandah-trellis, and fresh Indian mattinghad been laid down everywhere. 

The garden was still a wilderness, but Bernard declared that he wouldhave it in order before many weeks had passed. It was curious how, withhis very limited knowledge of natives and their ways, he managed toextract the most willing labour from them. Peter the Great smiled withgratified pride whenever he gave him an order, and all the otherservants seemed to entertain a similar veneration for the big, blue-eyed_sahib_ who was never heard to speak in anger or impatience, and yetwhose word was one which somehow no one found it possible to disregard. 

Tommy had become fond of him also. He was wont to say that Bernard wasthe most likable fellow he had ever met. An indefinable barrier hadgrown up between him and his brother-in-law, which, desperately thoughhe had striven against it, had made the old easy intercourse impossible. Bernard was in a fashion the link between them. Strangely they werealways more intimate in his presence than when alone, less conscious ofunknown ground, of reserves that could not be broached. 

Strive as he might, Tommy could not forget that evening at the mess--thehistoric occasion, as he had lightly named it--when like an evil magicat work he had witnessed the smirching of his hero's honour. He hadsought to bury the matter deep, to thrust it out of all remembrance, butthe evil wrought was too subtle and too potent. It reared itself againsthim and would not be trampled down. 

Had any of his brother-officers dared to mention the affair to him, hewould have been furious, would strenuously have defended that whichapparently his friend did not deem it worth his while to defend. But noone ever spoke of it. It dwelt among them, a shameful thing, ignored yetever present. 

Everard came and went as before, only more reticent, more grim, moreunapproachable than he had ever been in the old days. His utterindifference to the cold courtesy accorded him was beyond all scorn. Hesimply did not see when men avoided him. He was supremely unaware of thecoldness that made Tommy writhe in impotent rebellion. He had nevermixed very freely with his fellows. Upon Tommy alone had he bestowed hisactual friendship, and to Tommy alone did he now display any definitechange of front. His demeanour towards the boy was curiously gentle. Henever treated him confidentially or spoke of intimate things. Thatinvincible barrier which Tommy strove so hard to ignore, he seemed totake for granted. But he was invariably kind in all his dealings withhim, as if he realized that Tommy had lost the one possession he prizedabove all others and were sorry for him. 

Whatever Tommy's mood, and his moods varied considerably, he was neverother than patient with him, bearing with him as he would never haveborne in the byegone happier days of their good comradeship. He neverrebuked him, never offered him advice, never attempted in any fashion totest the influence that yet remained to him. And his very forbearancehurt Tommy more poignantly than any open rupture or even tacit avoidancecould have hurt him. There were times when he would have sacrificed allhe had, even down to his own honour, to have forced an understandingwith Monck, to have compelled him to yield up his secret. But wheneverhe braced himself to ask for an explanation, he found himself held back. There was a boundary he could not pass, a force relentless andirresistible, that checked him at the very outset. He lacked thestrength to batter down the iron will that opposed him behind thatunaccustomed gentleness. He could only bow miserably to the unspokenword of command that kept him at a distance. 

He was too loyal ever to discuss the matter with Bernard, though heoften wondered how the latter regarded his brother's attitude. At leastthere was no strain in their relationship though he was fairly convincedthat Everard had not taken Bernard into his confidence. This fact held asubtle solace for him, for it meant that Bernard, who was as open as theday, was content to be in the dark, and satisfied that it held nothingof an evil nature. This unquestioning faith on Bernard's part wasTommy's one ray of light. He knew instinctively that Bernard was not aman to compromise with evil. He carried his banner that all might see. He was not ashamed to confess his Master before all men, and Tommymutely admired him for it. 

He marked with pleasure the intimacy that existed between this man andhis sister. Like Stella, though in a different sense, he had grownimperceptibly to look upon him as a safeguard. He was a sure antidote tonervous forebodings. The advent of the baby also gave him keen delight. Tommy was a lover of all things youthful. He declared he had never feltso much at home in India before. 

Peter also was almost as much in the baby's company as was its _ayah_. The administration of the bottle was Peter's proudest privilege, and hewould walk soft-footed to and fro for any length of time carrying theinfant in his arms. Stella was always content when the baby was in hischarge. Her confidence in Peter's devotion was unbounded. The child wasnot very strong and needed great care. The care Peter lavished upon itwas as tender as her own. There was something of a feud between him andthe _ayah_, but no trace of this was ever apparent in her presence. Asfor the baby, he seemed to love Peter better than any one else, and wasgenerally at his best when in his arms. 

The Green Bungalow became a favourite meeting-place with the ladies ofthe station, somewhat, to Stella's dismay. Lady Harriet swept in at allhours to hold inspections of the infant's progress and give advice, andeveryone who had ever had a baby seemed to have some fresh warning orword of instruction to bestow. 

They were all very kind to her. She received many invitations to tea, and smiled over her sudden popularity. But--it dawned upon her when, shehad been about three weeks in the station--no one but the Ralstonsseemed to think of asking her and her husband to dine. She thought butlittle of the omission at first. Evening entertainments held but slightattraction for her, but as time went on and Christmas festivities drewnear, she could not avoid noticing that practically every invitation shereceived was worded in so strictly personal a fashion that there couldbe no doubt that Everard was not included in it. Bernard was often askedseparately, but he generally refused on the score of the evening beinghis best working time. 

Also, after a while, she could not fail to notice that Tommy was nolonger at his ease in Everard's presence. The old careless _camaraderie_between them was gone, and she missed it at first vaguely, later withan uneasiness that she could not stifle. There was something in Tommy'sattitude towards his friend that hurt her. She knew by instinct that theboy was not happy. She wondered at first if there could be some quarrelbetween them, but decided in face of Everard's unvarying kindness toTommy that this could not be. 

Another thing struck her as time went on. Everard always checked alltalk of his prospects. He was so repressive on the subject that shecould not possibly pursue it, and she came at last to conclude that hishope of preferment had vanished like a mirage in the desert. 

He was very good to her, but his absences continued in the oldunaccountable way, and her dread of Rustam Karin, which Bernard'spresence had in a measure allayed, revived again till at times it wasalmost more than she could bear. 

She did not talk of it any further to Bernard. She had told him all herfears, and she knew he was on guard, knew instinctively that she couldcount upon him though he never reverted to the matter. Somehow she couldnot bring herself to speak to him of the strange avoidance of herhusband that was being practised by the rest of the station either. Sheendured it dumbly, holding herself more and more aloof in consequence ofit as the days went by. Ever since the days of her own ostracism she hadplaced a very light price upon social popularity. The love of such womenas Mary Ralston--and the love of little Tessa--were of infinitelygreater value in her eyes. 

Tessa and her mother were once more guests in the Ralstons' bungalow. Netta had desired to stay at the new hotel which--as also atUdalkland--native enterprise had erected near the Club; but Mrs. Ralstonhad vetoed this plan with much firmness, and after a little petulantargument Netta had given in. She did not greatly care for staying withthe Ralstons. Mary was a dear good soul of course, but inclined to beinterfering, and now that the zest of life was returning to Netta, herdesire for her own way was beginning to reassert itself. However, theRalstons' bungalow also was in close proximity to the Club, and inconsideration of this she consented to take up her abode there. Her daysof seclusion were over. She had emerged from them with a fevered cravingfor excitement of any description mingled with that odd defiance thathad characterized her almost ever since her husband's death. She hadnever kept any very great control upon her tongue, but now it waspositively venomous. She seemed to bear a grudge against all the world. 

Tessa, with her beloved Scooter, went her own way as of yore, and spentmost of her time at The Green Bungalow where there was always someone towelcome her. She arrived there one day in a state of great indignation, Scooter as usual clinging to her hair and trying his utmost to escape. 

Like a whirlwind she burst upon Stella, who was sitting with her babyin the French window of her room. 

"Aunt Stella, " she cried breathlessly, "Mother says she's sure you andUncle Everard won't go to the officers' picnic at Khanmulla this year. It isn't true, is it, Aunt Stella? You will go, and you'll take me withyou, won't you?"

The officers' picnic at Khanmulla! The words called up a flood of memoryin Stella's heart. She looked at Tessa, the smile of welcome still uponher face; but she did not see her. She was standing once more in themoonlight, listening to the tread of a man's feet on the path below her, waiting--waiting with a throbbing heart--for the sound of a man's quietvoice. 

Tessa came nearer to her, looking at her with an odd species ofspeculation. "Aunt Stella, " she said, "that wasn't--all--Mother said. She made me very, very angry. Shall I tell you--would you like toknow--why?"

Stella's eyes ceased to gaze into distance. She looked at the child. Some vague misgiving stirred within her. It was the instinct ofself-defence that moved her to say, "I don't want to listen to any sillygossip, Tessa darling. "

"It isn't silly!" declared Tessa. "It's much worse than that. And I'mgoing to tell you, cos I think I'd better. She said that everybody saysthat Uncle Everard won't go to the picnic on Christmas Eve cos he'sashamed to look people in the face. I said it wasn't true. " Verystoutly Tessa brought out the assertion; then, a moment later, with aqueer sidelong glance into Stella's face, "It isn't true, dear, is it?"

Ashamed! Everard ashamed! Stella's hands clasped each otherunconsciously about the sleeping baby on her lap. Strangely her ownvoice came to her while she was not even aware of uttering the words. "Why should he be ashamed?"

Tessa's eyes were dark with mystery. She pressed against Stella with asmall protective gesture. "Darling, she said horrid things, but theyaren't true any of them. If Uncle Everard had been there, she wouldn'thave dared. I told her so. "

With an effort Stella unclasped her hands. She put her arm around thelittle girl. "Tell me what they are saying, Tessa, " she said. "I thinkwith you that I had better know. "

Tessa suffered Scooter to escape in order to hug Stella close. "They aresaying things about when he went on leave just after you married CaptainDacre, how he said he wanted to go to England and didn't go, andhow--how--" Tessa checked herself abruptly. "It came out at mess onenight, " she ended. 

A faint smile of relief shone, in Stella's eyes. "But I knew that, Tessa, " she said. "He told me himself. Is that all?"

"You knew?" Tessa's eyes shone with sudden triumph. "Oh, then do tellthem what he was doing and stop their horrid talking! It was Mrs. Burton began it. I always did hate her. "

"I can't tell them what he was doing, " Stella said, feeling her heartsink again. 

"You can't? Oh!" Keen disappointment sounded in Tessa's voice. "Butp'raps he would, " she added reflectively, "if he knew what beasts theyall are. Shall I ask him to, Aunt Stella?"

"Tell me first what they are saying!" Stella said, bracing herself toface the inevitable. 

Tessa looked at her dubiously for a moment. Somehow she would have foundit easier to tell this thing to Monck himself than to Stella. And yetshe had a feeling that it must be told, that Stella ought to know. Sheclung a little closer to her. 

"I always did hate Major Burton, " she said sweepingly. "I know hestarted it in the first place. He said--and now she says--that--thatit's very funny that the leave Uncle Everard had when he pretended to goto England should have come just at the time that Captain Dacre waskilled in the mountains, and that a horrid old man Uncle Everard knowscalled Rustam Karin who lives in the bazaar was away at the sametime. And they just wonder if p'raps he--the old man--had anythingto do with Captain Dacre dying like he did, and if Uncle Everardknows--something--about it. That's how they put it, Aunt Stella. Motheronly told me to tease me, but that's what they say. "

She stopped, pressing Stella's hand very tightly to her little quiveringbosom, and there followed a pause, a deep silence that seemed to have init something of an almost suffocating quality. 

Tessa moved at last because it became unbearable, moved and looked downinto Stella's face as if half afraid. She could not have said what sheexpected to see there, but she was undoubtedly relieved when thebeautiful face, white as death though it was, smiled back at her withouta tremor. 

Stella kissed her tenderly and let her go. "Thank you for telling me, darling, " she said gently. "It is just as well that I should know whatpeople say, even though it is nothing but idle gossip--idle gossip. " Sherepeated the words with emphasis. "Run and find Scooter, sweetheart!"she said. "And put all this silly nonsense out of your dear little headfor good! I must take baby to _ayah_ now. By and by we will read afairy-tale together and enjoy ourselves. "

Tessa ran away comforted, yet also vaguely uneasy. Her tendernessnotwithstanding, there was something not quite normal about Stella'sdismissal of her. This kind friend of hers had never sent her away quiteso summarily before. It was almost as if she were half afraid that Tessamight see--or guess--too much. 

As for Stella, she carried her baby to the _ayah_, and then shut herselfinto her own room where she remained for a long time face to face withthese new doubts. 

He had loved her before her marriage; he had called their union Kismet. He wielded a strange, almost an uncanny power among natives. And therewas Rustam Karin whom long ago she had secretly credited with RalphDacre's death--the serpent in the garden--the serpent in the desertalso--whose evil coils, it seemed to her, were daily tightening roundher heart. 

CHAPTER V

THE WOMAN'S WAY

It was three days later that Tommy came striding in from the polo-groundin great excitement with the news that Captain Ermsted's murderer hadbeen arrested. 

"All honour to Everard!" he said, flinging himself into a chair byStella's side. "The fellow was caught at Khanmulla. Barnes arrested him, but he gives the credit of the catch to Everard. The fellow will swing, of course. It will be a sensational trial, for rumour has it that theRajah was pushing behind. He, of course, is smooth as oil. I saw him atthe Club just now, hovering round Mrs. Ermsted as usual, and sheencouraging him. That girl is positively infatuated. Shouldn't wonder ifthere's a rude awakening before her. I beg your pardon, sir. You spoke?"He turned abruptly to Bernard who was seated near. 

"I was only wondering what Everard's share had been in tracking thischarming person down, " observed the elder Monck, who was smiling alittle at Tommy's evident excitement. 

"Oh, everyone knows that Everard is a regular sleuth-hound, " saidTommy. "He is more native than the natives when there is anything ofthis kind in the wind. He is a born detective, and he and that old chapin the bazaar are such a strong combination that they are practicallyinfallible and invincible. "

"Do you mean Rustam Karin?" Stella spoke very quietly, not lifting hereyes from her work. 

Tommy turned to her. "That's the chap. The old beggar fellow. At leastthey say he is. He never shows. Hafiz does all the show part. The oldboy is the brain that works the wires. Everard has immense faith inhim. "

"I know, " Stella said. 

Her voice sounded strangled, and Bernard looked across at her; but shecontinued to work without looking up. 

Tommy lingered for a while, expatiating upon Everard's astuteness, andfinally went away to dress for mess still in a state of considerableexcitement. 

Stella and Bernard sat in silence after his departure. There seemed tobe nothing to say. But when, after a time, he got up to go, she verysuddenly raised her eyes. 

"Bernard!"

"My dear!" he said very kindly. 

She put out a hand to him, almost as if feeling her way in a dark place. "I want to ask you, " she said, speaking hurriedly, "whether youknow--whether you have ever heard--the things that are being saidabout--about Everard and this man--Rustam Karin. "

She spoke with immense effort. It was evident that she was greatlyagitated. 

Bernard stopped beside her, holding her hand firmly in his. "Tell mewhat they are!" he said gently. 

She made a hopeless gesture. "Then you do know! Everyone knows. Naturally I am the last. You knew I connected that dreadful man long agowith--with Ralph's death. I had good reason for doing so after--after Ihad actually seen him on the verandah here that awful night. But--butnow it seems--because he and Everard have always been inpartnership--because they were both absent at the time of Ralph's death, no one knew where--people are talking and saying--and saying--" Shebroke off with a sharp, agonized sound. "I can't tell you what they aresaying!" she whispered. 

"It is false!" said Bernard stoutly. "It's a foul lie of the devil's ownconcocting! How long have you known of this? Who was vile enough to tellyou?"

"You knew?" she whispered. 

"I never heard the thing put into words but I had my own suspicions ofwhat was going about, " he admitted. "But I never believed it. Nothing onthis earth would induce me to believe it. You don't believe it, either, child. You know him better than that. "

She hid her face from him with a smothered sob. "I thought I did--once. "

"You did, " he asserted staunchly. "You do! Don't tell me otherwise, forI shan't believe you if you do! What kind friend told you? I want toknow. "

"Oh, it was only little Tessa. You mustn't blame her. She was full ofindignation, poor child. Her mother taunted her with it. You know--orperhaps you don't know--what Netta Ermsted is. "

Bernard's face was very grim as he made reply. "I think I can guess. Butyou are not going to be poisoned by her venom. Why don't you tellEverard, have it out with him? Say you don't believe it, but it hurtsyou to hear a damnable slander like this and not be able to refute it!You are not afraid of him, Stella? Surely you are not afraid of him!"

But Stella only hid her face a little lower, and spoke no word. 

He laid his hand upon her as she sat. "What does that mean?" he said. "Isn't your love equal to the strain?"

She shook her head dumbly. She could not meet his look. 

"What?" he said. "Is my love greater than yours then? I would trust hishonour even to the gallows, if need be. Can't you say as much?"

She answered him with her head bowed, her words barely audible. "Itisn't a question of love. I--should always love him--whatever he did. "

"Ah!" The flicker of a smile crossed Bernard's face. "That is thewoman's way. There's a good deal to be said for it, I daresay. "

"Yes--yes. " Quiveringly she made answer. "But--if this thing weretrue--my love would have to be sacrificed, even--even though it wouldmean tearing out my very heart. I couldn't go on--with him. Icouldn't--possibly. "

Her words trembled into silence, and the light died out of Bernard'seyes. "I see, " he said slowly. "But, my dear, I can't understand howyou--loving him as you do--can allow for a moment, even in your mostsecret heart, that such a thing as this could be true. That is where youbegin to go wrong. That is what does the harm. "

She looked up at last, and the despair in her eyes went straight to hisheart. "I have always felt there was--something, " she said. "I can'ttell you exactly how. But it has always been there. I tried hard not tolove him--not to marry him. But it was no use. He mastered me with hislove. But I always knew--I always knew--that there was something hiddenwhich I might not see. I have caught sight of it a dozen times, but Ihave never really seen it. " She suppressed a quick shudder. "I have beenafraid of it, and--I have always looked the other way. "

"A mistake, " Bernard said. "You should always face your bogies. Theyhave a trick of swelling out of all proportion to their actual size ifyou don't. "

"Yes, I know. I know. " Stella pressed his hand and withdrew her own. "You are very good, " she said. "I couldn't have said this to any one butyou. I can't speak to Everard. It isn't entirely my own weakness. Heholds me off. He makes me feel that it would be a mistake to speak. "

"Will you let me?" Bernard suggested, taking out his pipe and frowningover it. 

She shook her head instantly. "No!--no! I am sure he wouldn't answeryou, and--and it would hurt him to know that I had turned to any oneelse, even to you. It would only make things more difficult to bear. "She stopped short with a nervous gesture. "He is coming now, " she said. 

There was a sound of horse's hoofs at the gate, and in a moment EverardMonck came into view, riding his tall Waler which was smothered withdust and foam. 

He waved to his wife as he rode up the broad path. His dark face wasalight with a grim triumph. A _saice_ ran forward to take his animal, and he slid to the ground and stamped his feet as if stiff. 

Then without haste he mounted the steps and came to them. 

"I am not fit to come near you, " he said, as he drew near. "I have beenright across the desert to Udalkhand, and had to do some hard riding toget back in time. " He pulled off his glove and just touched Stella'scheek in passing. "Hullo, Bernard! About time for a drink, isn't it?"

He looked momentarily surprised when Stella swiftly turned her head andkissed the hand that had so lightly caressed her. He stopped beside herand laid it on her shoulder. 

"I am afraid you won't approve of me when I tell you what I have beendoing, " he said. 

She looked up at him. "I know. Tommy came in and told us. You--seem tohave done something rather great. I suppose we ought to congratulateyou. "

He smiled a little. "It is always satisfactory when a murderer gets hisdeserts, " he said, "though I am afraid the man who does the job is notin all cases the prime malefactor. "

"Ah!" Stella said. She folded up her work with hands that were not quitesteady; her face was very pale. 

Everard stood looking down at the burnished coils of her hair. "Are yougoing to the dance at the Club to-night?" he asked, after a moment. 

She shook her head instantly. "No. "

"Why not?" he questioned. 

She leaned back in her chair, and looked up at him. "As you know, Inever was particularly fond of the station society. "

He frowned a little. "It's better than nothing. You are too given toshutting yourself up. Bernard thinks so too. "

Stella glanced towards her brother-in-law with a slight lift of theeyebrows. "I don't think he does. But in any case, we are engagedto-night. It is Tessa's birthday, and she and Scooter are coming todine. "

"Coming to dine! What on earth for?" Everard looked his astonishment. 

"My doing, " said Bernard. "It's a surprise-party. Stella very kindlyfell in with the plan, but it originated with me. You see, PrincessBluebell is ten years old to-day, and quite grown up. Mrs. Ralston had achildren's party for her this afternoon which I was privileged toattend. I must say Tessa made a charming hostess, but she confided to meat parting that the desire of her life was to play Cinderella and go outto dinner in a 'rickshaw all by herself. So I undertook then and therethat a 'rickshaw should be waiting for her at the gate at eight o'clock, and she should have a stodgy grown-up entertainment to follow. She wasdelighted with the idea, poor little soul. The Ralstons are going to theClub dance, and of course Mrs. Ermsted also, but Tommy is giving up thefirst half to come and amuse Cinderella. Mrs. Ralston thinks the childwill be ill with so much excitement, but a tenth birthday is somethingof an occasion, as I pointed out. And she certainly behaved wonderfullywell this afternoon, though she was about the only child who did. Inearly throttled the Burton youngster for kicking the _ayah_, littlebrute. He seemed to think it was a very ordinary thing to do. " Bernardstopped himself with a laugh. "You'll be bored with all this, and I mustgo and make ready. There are to be Chinese lanterns to light the way anda strip of red cloth on the steps. Peter is helping as usual, Peter theinvaluable. We shan't keep it up very late. Will you join us? Or are youalso bound for the Club?"

"I will join you with pleasure, " Everard said. "I haven't seen the impfor some days. There has been too much on hand. How is the boy, Stella?Shall we go and say good-night to him?"

Stella had risen. She put her hand through his arm. "Bernard and Tommyare to do all the entertaining, and you and I can amuse each other foronce. We don't often have such a chance. "

She smiled as she spoke, but her lips were quivering. Bernard saunteredaway, and as he went, Everard stooped and kissed her upturned face. 

He did not speak, and she clung to him for a moment passionately close. Wherefore she could not have said, but there was in her embracesomething to restrain her tears. She forced them back with her utmostresolution as they went together to see their child. 

CHAPTER VI

THE SURPRISE PARTY

Punctually at eight o'clock Tessa arrived, slightly awed but supremelyhappy, seated in a 'rickshaw, escorted by Bernard, and hugging thebeloved Scooter to her eager little breast. 

Her eyes were shining with mysterious expectation. As her cavalierhanded her from her chariot up the red-carpeted steps she moved as onewho treads enchanted ground. The little creature in her arms wore an airof deep suspicion. His pointed head turned to and fro with ferret-likemovements. His sharp red eyes darted hither and thither almostapprehensively. He was like a toy on wires. 

"He is going--p'raps--to turn into a fairy prince soon, " explainedTessa. "I'm not sure that he quite likes the idea though. He wouldrather kill a dragon. P'raps he'll do both. "

"P'raps, " agreed Bernard. 

He led the little girl along the vernadah under the bobbing lanterns. Tessa looked about her critically. "There aren't any other children, arethere?" she said. 

"Not one, " said Bernard, "unless you count me. We are going to dinetogether, you and I, quite alone--if you can put up with me. And afterthat we will hold a reception for grown-ups only. "

"I shall like that, " said Tessa graciously. "Ah, here is Peter! Peter, will you please bring a box for Scooter while I have my dinner? He wantsto go snake-hunting, " she added to Bernard. "And if he does that, Ishan't have him again for the rest of the evening. "

"You don't get snakes this time of year, do you?" asked Bernard. 

"Oh yes, sometimes. I saw one the other day when I was out with MajorRalston. He tried to kill it with his stick, but it got away. AndScooter wasn't there. They like to hide under bits of carpet like this, "said Tessa in an instructive tone, pointing to the strip that had beenlaid in her honour. "Are you afraid of snakes, Uncle St. Bernard?"

"Yes, " said Bernard with simplicity. "Aren't you?"

Tessa looked slightly surprised at the admission. "I don't know. Iexpect I am. Peter isn't. Peter's very brave. "

"He has been more or less brought up with them, " said Bernard. "Scorpions too. He smiled the other day when I fled from a scorpion inthe garden. And I believe he has a positively fatherly feeling forrats. "

Tessa shivered a little. "Scooter killed a rat the other day, and itsquealed dreadfully. I don't think he ought to do things like that, butof course he doesn't know any better. "

"He looks as if he knows a lot, " said Bernard. 

"Yes, I wish he would learn to talk. He's awful clever. Do you think wecould ever teach him?" asked Tessa. 

Bernard shook his head. "No. It would take a magician to do that. We arenot clever enough, either of us. Peter now--"

"Oh, is Peter a magician?" said Tessa, with shining eyes. "Peter, dearPeter, " turning to him ecstatically as he appeared with a box in whichto imprison her darling, "do you think you could possibly teach mylittle Scooter to talk?"

Peter smiled all over his bronze countenance. "Missy _sahib_, only theHoly Ones can do that, " he said. 

Tessa's face fell. "That's as bad as telling you to pray for anything, isn't it?" she said to Bernard. "And my prayers never come true. Doyours?"

"They always get answered, " said Bernard, "some time or other. "

"Oh, do they?" Tessa regarded him with interest. "Does God come and talkto you then?" she said. 

He smiled a little. "He speaks to all who wait to hear, my princess, " hesaid. 

"Only to grown-ups, " said Tessa, looking incredulous. 

Bernard put his arm round her. "No, " he said. "It's the children whocome first with Him. He may not give them just what they ask for, butit's generally something better. "

Tessa stared at him, her eyes round and dark. "S'pose, " she saidsuddenly, "a big snake was to come out of that corner, and I was to say, 'Don't let it bite me, Lord!' Do you think it would?"

"No, " said Bernard very decidedly. 

"Oh!" said Tessa. "Well, I wish one would then, for I'd love to see ifit would or not. "

Bernard pulled her to him and kissed her. "We won't talk any more aboutsnakes or you'll be dreaming of them, " he said. "Come along and dinewith me! Rather sport having it all to ourselves, eh?"

"Where's Aunt Stella and Uncle Everard?" asked Tessa. 

"Oh, they're preparing for the reception. Let me take your Highness'scloak! This is the banqueting-room. "

He threw the cloak over a chair in the verandah, and led her into thedrawing-room, where a small table lighted by candles with crimson shadesawaited them. 

"How pretty!" cried Tessa, clapping her hands. 

Peter in snowy attire, benign and magnificent, attended to their wants, and the feast proceeded, vastly enjoyed by both. Tessa had never been so_fêted_ in all her small life before. 

When, at the end of the repast, to an accompaniment of nuts andsweetmeats, Bernard poured her a tiny ruby-coloured liqueur glass ofwine, her delight knew no bounds. 

"I've never enjoyed myself so much before, " she declared. "What a duckylittle glass! Now I'm going to drink your health!"

"No. I drink yours first. " Bernard arose, holding his glass high. "Idrink to the Princess Bluebell. May she grow fairer every day! And mayher cup of blessing be always full!"

"Thank you, " said Tessa. "And now, Uncle St. Bernard, I'm going to drinkto you. May you always have lots to laugh at! And may your prayersalways come true! That rhymes, doesn't it?" she added complacently. "DoI drink all my wine now, or only a sip?"

"Depends, " said Bernard. 

"How does it depend?"

"It depends on how much you love me, " he explained. "If there's any oneelse you love better, you save a little for him. "

She looked straight at him with a hint of embarrassment in her eyes. "I'm afraid I love Uncle Everard best, " she said. 

Bernard smiled upon her with reassuring kindliness. "Quite right, mychild. So you ought. There's Tommy too and Aunt Stella. I am sure youwant to drink to them. "

Tessa slipped round the table to his side, clasping her glass tightly. As she came within the circle of his arm she whispered, "Yes, I lovethem ever such a lot. But I love you best of all, except Uncle Everard, and he doesn't want me when he's got Aunt Stella. I s'pose you neverwanted a little girl for your very own did you?"

He looked down at her, his blue eyes full of tenderness. "I've oftenwanted you, Tessa, " he said. 

"Have you?" she beamed upon him, rubbing her flushed cheek against hisshoulder. "I'm sure you can have me if you like, " she said. 

He pressed her to him. "I don't think your mother would agree to that, you know. "

Tessa's red lips pouted disgust. "Oh, she wouldn't care! She never careswhat I do. She likes it much best when I'm not there. "

Bernard's brows were slightly drawn. His arm held the little slim bodyvery closely to him. 

"You and I would be so happy, " insinuated Tessa, as he did not speak. "I'd do as you told me always. And I'd never, never be rude to you. "

He bent and kissed her. "I know that, my darling. "

"And when you got old, dear Uncle St. Bernard, --really old, I mean--I'dtake such care of you, " she proceeded. "I'd be--more--than a daughter toyou. "

"Ah!" he said. "I should like that, my princess of the bluebell eyes. "

"You would?" she looked at him eagerly. "Then don't you think you mighttell Mother you'll have me? I know she wouldn't mind. "

He smiled at her impetuosity. "We must be patient, my princess, " hesaid. "These things can't be done offhand, if at all. "

She slid her arm round his neck and hugged him. "But there is theweeniest, teeniest chance, isn't there? 'Cos you do think you'd like tohave me if I was good, and I'd--love--to belong to you. Is there justthe wee-est little chance, Uncle St. Bernard? Would it be any goodpraying for it?"

He took her little hand into his warm kind grasp, for she was quiveringall over with excitement. 

"Yes, pray, little one!" he said. "You may not get exactly what youwant. But there will be an answer if you keep on. Be sure of that!"

Tessa nodded comprehension. "All right. I will. And you will too, won'tyou? It'll be fun both praying for the same thing, won't it? Oh, mywine! I nearly spilt it. "

"Better drink it and make it safe!" he said with a twinkle. "I'm goingto drink mine, and then we'll go on to the verandah and wait forsomething to happen. "

"Is something going to happen?" asked Tessa, with a shiver of delightedanticipation. 

He laughed. "Perhaps, --if we live long enough. "

Tessa drank her wine almost casually. "Come on!" she said. "Let's go!"

But ere they reached the French window that led on to the verandah, asudden loud report followed by a succession of minor ones coming fromthe compound told them that the happenings had already begun. Tessagave one great jump, and then literally danced with delight. 

"Fireworks!" she cried. "Fireworks! That's Tommy! I know it is. Do let'sgo and look!" They went, and hung over the verandah-rail to watch amasked figure attired in an old pyjama suit of vivid green and whitewhirling a magnificent wheel of fire that scattered glowing sparks inall directions. 

Tessa was wild with excitement. "How lovely!" she cried. "Oh, howlovely! Dear Uncle St. Bernard, mayn't I go down and help him?"

But Bernard decreed that she should remain upon the verandah, and, strangely, Tessa submitted without protest. She held his hand tightly, as if to prevent herself making any inadvertent dash for freedom, butshe leapt to and fro like a dog on the leash, squeaking her ecstasy atevery fresh display achieved by the bizarre masked figure below them. 

Bernard watched her with compassionate sympathy in his kindly eyes. Little Tessa had won a very warm place in his heart. He marvelled at hermother's attitude of callous indifference. 

Certainly Tessa had never enjoyed herself more thoroughly than on thatevening of her tenth birthday. Time flew by on the wings of delight. Tommy's exhibition was appreciated with almost delirious enthusiasm onthe verandah, and a little crowd of natives at the gate pushed andnudged each other with an admiration quite as heartfelt thoughcarefully suppressed. 

The display had been going on for some time when Stella came out aloneand joined the two on the verandah. To Tessa's eager inquiry for UncleEverard she made answer that he had been called out on business, and toBernard she added that Hafiz had sent him a message by one of theservants, and she supposed he had gone to Rustam Karin's stall in thebazaar. She looked pale and dispirited, but she joined in Tessa'sdelighted appreciation of the entertainment which now was drawing to aclose. 

It was getting late, and as with a shower of coloured stars the magicianin the compound accomplished a grand _finale_, Bernard put his armaround the narrow shoulders and said, with a kindly squeeze, "I am goingto see my princess home again now. She mustn't lose all herbeauty-sleep. "

She lifted her face to kiss him. "It has been--lovely, " she said. "I dowish I needn't go back to-night. Do you think Aunt Mary would mind if Istayed with you?"

He smiled at her whimsically. "Perhaps not, princess; but I am going totake you back to her all the same. Say good-night to Aunt Stella! Shelooks as if a good dose of bed would do her good. "

Tommy, with his mask in his hand, came running up the verandah-steps, and Tessa sprang to meet him. 

"Oh, Tommy--darling, I have enjoyed myself so!"

He kissed her lightly. "That's all right, scaramouch. So have I. I mustget out of this toggery now double-quick. I suppose you are off in your'rickshaw? I'll walk with you. It'll be on the way to the Club. "

"Oh, how lovely! You on one side and Uncle St. Bernard on the other!"cried Tessa. 

"The princess will travel in state, " observed Bernard. "Ah! Here comesPeter with Scooter! Have your cloak on before you take him out!"

The cloak had fallen from the chair. Peter set down Scooter in hisprison, and picked it up. By the light of the bobbing, coloured lanternshe placed it about her shoulders. 

Tessa suddenly turned and sat down. "My shoe is undone, " she said, extending her foot with a royal air. "Where is the prince?"

The words were hardly out of her mouth before another sound escaped herwhich she hastily caught back as though instinct had stifled it in herthroat. "Look!" she gasped. 

Peter was nearest to her. He had bent to release Scooter, but like astreak of light he straightened himself. He saw--before any one else hadtime to realize--- the hideous thing that writhed in momentaryentanglement in the folds of Tessa's cloak, and then suddenly reareditself upon her lap as she sat frozen stiff with horror. 

He stooped over the child, his hands outspread, waiting for the momentto swoop. "Missy _sahib_, not move--not move!" he said softly above her. "My missy _sahib_ not going to be hurt. Peter taking care of Missy_sahib_. "

And, with glassy eyes fixed and white lips rigid, Tessa's strainedwhisper came in answer. "O Lord, don't let it bite me!"

Tommy would have flung himself forward then, but Bernard caught and heldhim. He had seen the look in the Indian's eyes, and he knew beyond alldoubting that Tessa was safe, if any human power could make her so. 

Stella knew it also. In that moment Peter loomed gigantic to her. Hisgleaming eyes and strangely smiling face held her spellbound with afascination greater even than that wicked, vibrating thing that coiled, black and evil, on the white of Tessa's frock could command. She knewthat if none intervened, Peter would accomplish Tessa's deliverance. 

But there was one factor which they had all forgotten. In those tenseseconds Scooter the mongoose by some means invisible became aware of thepresence of the enemy. The lid of his box had already been loosened byPeter. With a frantic effort he forced it up and leapt free. 

In that moment Peter, realizing that another instant's delay might befatal, pounced forward with a single swift swoop and seized theserpent-in his naked hands. 

Tessa uttered the shriek which a few seconds before sheer horror hadarrested, and fell back senseless in her chair. 

Peter, grim and awful in the uncertain light, fought the thing he hadgripped, while a small, red-eyed monster clawed its way up him, fiercelyclambering to reach the horrible, writhing creature in the man's hold. 

It was all over in a few hard-breathing seconds, over before either ofthe men in front of Peter or a shadowy figure behind him that had comeup at Tessa's cry could give any help. 

With a low laugh that was more terrible than any uttered curse, Peterflung the coiling horror over the verandah-rail into the bushes of thecompound. Something else went with it, closely locked. They heard thethud of the fall, and there followed an awful, voiceless struggling inthe darkness. 

"Peter!" a voice said. 

Peter was leaning against a post of the verandah. "Missy _sahib_ isquite safe, " he said, but his voice sounded odd, curiously lifeless. 

The shadow that had approached behind him swept forward into the light. The lanterns shone upon a strange figure, bent, black-bearded, clothedin a long, dingy garment that seemed to envelop it from head to foot. 

Peter gave a violent start and spoke a few rapid words in his ownlanguage. 

The other made answer even more swiftly, and in a second there was theflash of a knife in the fitful glare. Bernard and Tommy both startedforward, but Peter only thrust out one arm with a grunt. It was agesture of submission, and it told its own tale. 

"The poor devil's bitten!" gasped Tommy. 

Bernard turned to Tessa and lifted the little limp body in his arms. 

He thought that Stella would follow him as he bore the child into theroom behind, but she did not. 

The place was in semi-darkness, for they had turned down the lamps tosee the fireworks. He laid her upon a sofa and turned them up again. 

The light upon her face showed it pinched and deathly. Her breathingseemed to be suspended. He left her and went swiftly to the dining-roomin search of brandy. 

Returning with it, he knelt beside her, forcing a little between therigid white lips. His own mouth was grimly compressed. The sight of hislittle playfellow lying like that cut him to the soul. She wasuninjured, he knew, but he asked himself if the awful fright had killedher. He had never seen so death-like a swoon before. 

He had no further thought for what was passing on the verandah outside. Tommy had said that Peter was bitten, but there were three people tolook after him, whereas Tessa--poor brave mite--had only himself. Hechafed her icy cheeks and hands with a desperate sense of impotence. 

He was rewarded after what seemed to him an endless period of suspense. A tinge of colour came into the white lips, and the closed eyelidsquivered and slowly opened. The bluebell eyes gazed questioningly intohis. 

"Where--where is Scooter?" whispered Tessa. 

"Not far away, dear, " he made answer soothingly. "We will go and findhim presently. Drink another little drain of this first!"

She obeyed him almost mechanically. The shadow of a great horror stilllingered in her eyes. He gathered her closely to him. 

"Try and get a little sleep, darling! I'm here. I'll take care of you. "

She snuggled against him. "Am I going to stay all night!" she asked. 

"Perhaps, little one, perhaps!" He pressed her closer still. "Quitecomfy?"

"Oh, very comfy; ever--so--comfy, " murmured Tessa, closing her eyesagain. "Dear--dear Uncle St. Bernard!"

She sank down in his hold, too spent to trouble herself any further, andin a very few seconds her quiet breathing told him that she was fastasleep. 

He sat very still, holding her. The awful peril through which she hadcome had made her tenfold more precious in his eyes. He could not haveloved her more tenderly if she had been indeed his own. He fell todreaming with his cheek against her hair. 

CHAPTER VII

RUSTAM KARIN

How long a time passed he never knew. It could not in actual fact havebeen more than a few minutes when a sudden sound from the verandah putan end to his reverie. 

He laid the child back upon the sofa and got up. She was sleeping offthe shock; it would be a pity to wake her. He moved noiselessly to thewindow. 

As he did so, a voice he scarcely recognized--a woman's voice--spoke, tensely, hoarsely, close to him. 

"Tommy, stop that man! Don't let him go! He is a murderer, --do you hear?He is the man who murdered my husband!"

Bernard stepped over the sill and closed the window after him. Thelanterns were still swaying in the night-breeze. By their light he tookin the group upon the verandah. Peter was sitting bent forward in thechair from which he had lifted Tessa. His snowy garments were deeplystained with blood. Beside him in a crouched and apelike attitude, apparently on the point of departure, was the shadowy native who hadsaved his life. Tommy, still fantastic and clown-like in his green andwhite pyjama-suit, was holding a glass for Peter to drink. And uprightbefore them all, with accusing arm outstretched, her eyes shining likestars out of the shadows, stood Stella. 

She turned to Bernard as he came forward. "Don't let him escape!" shesaid, her voice deep with an insistence he had never heard in it before. "He escaped last time. And there may not be another chance. "

Tommy looked round sharply. "Leave the man alone!" he said. "You don'tknow what you're talking about, Stella. This affair has upset you. It'sonly old Rustam Karin. "

"I know. I know. I have known for a long time that it was Rustam Karinwho killed Ralph. " Stella's voice vibrated on a strange note. "He may beEverard's chosen friend, " she said. "But a day will come when he willturn upon him too. Bernard, " she spoke with sudden appeal, "you knoweverything. I have told you of this man. Surely you will help me! I havemade no mistake. Peter will corroborate what I say. Ask Peter!"

At sound of his name Peter lifted a ghastly face and tried to rise, butTommy swiftly prevented him. 

"Sit still, Peter, will you? You're much too shaky to walk. Finish thisstuff first anyhow!"

Peter sank back, but there was entreaty in his gleaming eyes. They hadbandaged his injured arm across his breast, but with his free hand hemade a humble gesture of submission to his mistress. 

"_Mem-sahib_, " he said, his voice low and urgent, "he is a good man--aholy man. Suffer him to go his way!"

The man in question had withdrawn into the shadows. He was in factbeating an unobtrusive retreat towards the corner of the bungalow, andwould probably have effected his escape but for Bernard, who, moved bythe anguished entreaty in Stella's eyes, suddenly strode forward andgripped him by his tattered garment. 

"No harm in making inquiries anyway!" he said. "Don't you be in such ahurry, my friend. It won't do you any harm to come back and give anaccount of yourself--that is, if you are harmless. "

He pulled the retreating native unceremoniously back into the light. Theman made some resistance, but there was a mastery about Bernard thatwould not be denied. Hobbling, misshapen, muttering in his beard, hereturned. 

"_Mem-sahib!_" Again Peter's voice spoke, and there was a break in it asthough he pleaded with Fate itself and knew it to be in vain. "He is agood man, but he is leprous. _Mem-sahib, _ do not look upon him! Sufferhim to go!"

Possibly the words might have had effect, for Stella's rigidity hadturned to a violent shivering and it was evident that her strength wasbeginning to fail. But in that moment Bernard broke into an exclamationof most unwonted anger, and ruthlessly seized the ragged wisp of blackbeard that hung down over his victim's hollow chest. 

"This is too bad!" he burst forth hotly. "By heaven it's too bad! Man, stop this tomfool mummery, and explain yourself!"

The beard came away in his indignant hand. The owner thereofstraightened himself up with a contemptuous gesture till he reached theheight of a tall man. The enveloping _chuddah_ slipped back from hishead. 

"I am not the fool, " he said briefly. 

Stella's cry rang through the verandah, and it was Peter who, utterlyforgetful of his own adversity, leapt up like a faithful hound toprotect her in her hour of need. 

The glass in Tommy's hand fell with a crash. Tommy himself staggeredback as if he had been struck a blow between the eyes. 

And across the few feet that divided them as if it had been a yawninggulf, Everard Monck faced the woman who had denounced him. 

He did not utter a word. His eyes met hers unflinching. They were whollywithout anger, emotionless, inscrutable. But there was somethingterrible behind his patience. It was as if he had bared his breast forher to strike. 

And Stella--Stella looked upon him with a frozen, incredulous horror, just as Tessa had looked upon the snake upon her lap only a littlewhile before. 

In the dreadful silence that hung like a poisonous vapour upon them, there came a small rustling close to them, and a wicked little head withred, peering eyes showed through the balustrade of the verandah. 

In a moment Scooter with an inexpressibly evil air of satisfactionslipped through and scuttled in a zigzag course over the matting insearch of fresh prey. 

It was then that Stella spoke, her voice no more than a throbbingwhisper. "Rustam Karin!" she said. 

Very grimly across the gulf, Everard made answer. "Rustam Karin wasremoved to a leper settlement before you set foot in India. "

"By--Jupiter!" ejaculated Tommy. 

No one else spoke till slowly, with the gesture of an old and strickenwoman, Stella turned away. "I must think, " she said, in the same curiousvibrating whisper, as though she held converse with herself. "Imust--think. "

No one attempted to detain her. It was as though an invisible barriercut her off from all but Peter. He followed her closely, forgetful ofhis wound, forgetful of everything but her pressing need. With dumbdevotion he went after her, and they vanished beyond the flicker of thebobbing lanterns. 

Of the three men left, none moved or spoke for several difficultseconds. Finally Bernard, with an abrupt gesture that seemed to expressexasperation, turned sharply on his heel and without a word re-enteredthe room in which he had left Tessa asleep, and fastened the windowbehind him. He left the tangle of beard on the matting, and Scooterstopped and nosed it sensitively till Everard stooped and picked it up. 

"That show being over, " he remarked drily, "perhaps I may be allowed toattend to business without further interference. "

Tommy gave a great start and crunched some splinters of the shatteredglass under his heel. He looked at Everard with an odd, challenginglight in his eyes. 

"If you ask me, " he said bluntly, "I should say your business here ismore urgent than your business in the bazaar. "

Everard raised his brows interrogatively, and as if he had asked aquestion Tommy made sternly resolute response. 

"I've got to have a talk with you. Shall I come into your room?"

Just for a second the elder man paused; then: "Are you sure that is thewisest thing you can do?" he said. 

"It's what I'm going to do, " said Tommy firmly. 

"All right. " Everard stooped again, picked up the inquiring Scooter, anddropped him into the box in which he had spent the evening. 

Then without more words, he turned along the verandah and led the way tohis own room. 

Tommy came close behind. He was trembling a little but his agitationonly seemed to make him more determined. 

He paused a moment as he entered the room behind Everard to shut thewindow; then valiantly tackled the hardest task that had ever come hisway. 

"Look here!" he said. "You must see that this thing can't be left whereit is. "

Everard threw off the garment that encumbered him and gravely faced hisyoung brother-in-law. 

"Yes, I do see that, " he said. "I seem to have exhausted my credit allround. It's decent of you, Tommy, to have been as forbearing as youhave. Now what is it you want to know?"

Tommy confronted him uncompromisingly. "I want to know the truth, that'sall, " he said. "Can't you stop this dust-throwing business and bestraight with me?"

His tone was stubborn, his attitude almost hostile. Yet beneath it allthere ran a vein of something that was very like entreaty. And Everard, steadily watching him, smiled--the faint grim smile of the fighter whosees a gap in his enemy's defences. 

"I'm afraid not, " he said. "I don't want to be brutal, but--you see, Tommy--it's not your business. "

Tommy flinched a little, but he stood his ground. "I think you'reforgetting, " he said, "that Stella is my sister. It's up to me toprotect her. "

"From me?" Everard's words came swift and sharp as a sword-thrust. 

Tommy turned suddenly white, but he straightened himself with a gesturethat was not without dignity. "If necessary--yes, " he said. 

An abrupt silence followed his words. They stood facing each other, andthe stillness between them was such that they could hear Scooter beyondthe closed window scratching against his prison-walls for freedom. 

It seemed endless to Tommy. He came through it unfaltering, but he feltphysically sick, as if he had been struck in the back. 

When Everard spoke at last, his hands clenched involuntarily. He halfexpected violence. But there was no hint of anger about the elder man. He had himself under iron control. His face was flint-like in itscomposure, his mouth implacably grim. 

"Thanks for the warning!" he said briefly. "It's just as well to knowhow we stand. Is that all you wanted to say?"

The dismissal was as definite as if he had actually seized and thrownhim out of the room. And yet there was not even suppressed wrath in hisspeech. It was indifferent, remote as a voice from the desert-distance. His eyes looked upon Tommy without interest or any sort of warmth, asthough he had been a total stranger. 

In that moment Tommy saw that sacred thing, their friendship, shatteredand lying in the dust. It was not he who had flung it there, yet hissoul cried out in bitter self-reproach. This was the man who had beencloser to him than a brother, the man who had saved him from disasterphysically and morally, watching over him with a grim tenderness thatnothing had ever changed. 

And now it was all done with. There was nothing left but to turn and go. 

But could he? He stood irresolute, biting his lips, held there by aforce that seemed outside himself. And it was Everard who made the firstmove, turning from him as if he had ceased to count and pulling out anote-book that he always carried to make some entry. 

Tommy stood yet a moment longer as if, had it been possible, he wouldhave broken through the barrier between them even then. But Everard didnot so much as glance in his direction, and the moment passed. 

In utter silence he turned and went out as he had entered. There wasnothing more to be said. 

CHAPTER VIII

PETER

Tessa went back to the Ralstons' bungalow that night borne in Bernard'sarms. She knew very little about it, for she scarcely awoke, only dimlyrealizing that her friend was at hand. Tommy went with them, carryingScooter. He said he must show himself at the Club, though Bernardsuspected this to be merely an excuse for escaping for a time from TheGreen Bungalow. For it was evident that Tommy had had a shock. 

He himself was merely angry at what appeared to him a wanton trick, tooangry to trust himself in his brother's company just then. He regardedit as no part of his business to attempt to intervene between Everardand his wife, but his sympathies were all with the latter. That she insome fashion misconstrued the whole affair he could not doubt, but hewas by no means sure that Everard had not deliberately schemed for somespecies of misunderstanding. He had, to serve his own ends, personated aman who was apparently known to be disreputable, and if he now receivedthe credit for that man's misdeeds he had himself alone to thank. Obviously a mistake had been made, but it seemed to him that Everard hadintended it to be made, had even worked to bring it about. What hisobject had been Bernard could not bring to conjecture. But hisinstinctive, inborn hatred of all underhand dealings made him resent hisbrother's behaviour with all the force at his command. He was too angryto attempt to unravel the mystery, and he did not broach the subject toTommy who evidently desired to avoid it. 

The whole business was beyond his comprehension and, he was convinced, beyond Stella's also. He did not think Everard would find it a very easytask to restore her confidence. Perhaps he would not attempt to do so. Perhaps he was too engrossed with the service of his goddess to carethat he and his wife should drift asunder. And yet--the memory of themorning on which he had first seen those streaks of grey in hisbrother's hair came upon him, and an unwilling sensation of pitysoftened his severity. Perhaps he had been drawn in in spite of himself. Perhaps the poor beggar was a victim rather than a worshipper. Mostcertainly--whatever his faults--he cared deeply. 

Would he be able to make Stella realize that? Bernard wondered, andshook his head in doubt. 

The thought of Stella turning away with that look of frozen horror onher face pursued him through the night. Poor girl! She had looked asthough the end of all things had come for her. Could he have helped her?Ought he to have left her so? He quickened his pace almost insensibly. No, he would not interfere of his own free will. But if she needed hissupport, if she counted upon him, he would not be found wanting. Itmight even be given to him eventually to help them both. 

He had not seen her again. She had gone to her room with Peter inattendance, Peter who owed his life to the knife in Everard's girdle. Hehad had a strong feeling that Peter was the only friend she needed justthen, and certainly Tessa had been his first responsibility. But thefeeling that possibly she might need him was growing upon him. He wishedhe had satisfied himself before starting that this was not the case. Buthe comforted himself with the thought of Peter. He was sure that Peterwould take care of her. 

Yes, Peter would care for his beloved _mem-sahib_, whatever his physicaldisabilities. He would never fail in the execution of that his sacredduty while the power to do so was his. If all others failed her, yetwould Peter remain faithful. Even then with his dog-like devotion was hecrouched upon her threshold, his dark face wrapped in his garment, yetalert for every sound and mournfully aware that his mistress was notresting. Of his own wound he thought not at all. He had been very nearthe gate of death, and the only man in the world for whom he entertainedthe smallest feeling of fear had snatched him back. To his promptitudealone did Peter owe his life. He had cut out that deadly bite with aswiftness and a precision that had removed all danger of snake-poison, and in so doing he had exposed the secret which he had guarded so longand so carefully. The first moment of contact had betrayed him to Peter, but Peter was very loyal. Had he been the only one to recognize him, thesecret would have been safe. He had done his best to guard it, but Fatehad been against them. And the _mem-sahib_--the _mem-sahib_ had turnedand gone away as one heart-broken. 

Peter yearned to comfort her, but the whole situation was beyond him. Hecould only mount guard in silence. Perhaps--presently--the great _sahib_himself would come, and make all things right again. The night wasadvancing. Surely he would come soon. 

Barely had he begun to hope for this when the door he guarded was openedslightly from within. His _mem-sahib_, strangely white and still, lookedforth. 

"Peter!" she said gently. 

He was up in a moment, bending before her, his black eyes glowing in thedim light. 

She laid her slender hand upon his shoulder. She had ever treated himwith the graciousness of a queen. "How is your wound?" she asked him inher soft, low voice. "Has it been properly bathed and dressed?"

He straightened himself, looking into her beautiful pale face with theloving reverence that he always accorded her. "All is well, my_mem-sahib_, " he said. "Will you not be graciously pleased to rest?"

She shook her head, smiling faintly--a smile that somehow tore hisheart. She opened her door and motioned him to enter. "I think I hadbetter see for myself, " she said. "Poor Peter! How you must havesuffered, and how splendidly brave you are! Come in and let me see whatI can do!"

He hung back protesting; but she would take no refusal, gently butfirmly overruling all his scruples. 

"Why was the doctor not sent for?" she said. "I ought to have thought ofit myself. "

She insisted upon washing and bandaging his wound anew. It was a deepone. Necessity had been stern, and Everard had not spared. It had bledfreely, and there was no sign of any poisonous swelling. With tenderhands Stella treated it, Peter standing dumbly submissive the while. 

When she had finished, she arranged the injured arm in a sling, andlooked him in the eyes. 

"Peter, where is the captain _sahib_?"

"He went to his room, my _mem-sahib_, " said Peter. "Bernard _sahib_carried the little missy _sahib_ back, and Denvers _sahib_ went withhim. I did not see the captain _sahib_ again. "

He spoke wistfully, as one who longed to help but recognized hislimitations. 

Stella received his news in silence, her face still and white as theface of a marble statue. She felt no resentment against Peter. He hadacted almost under compulsion. But she could not discuss the matterwith him. 

At length: "You may go, Peter, " she said. "Please let no one come to mydoor to-night! I wish to be undisturbed. "

Peter salaamed low and withdrew. The order was a very definite one, andshe knew she could rely upon him to carry it out. As the door closedsoftly upon him, she turned towards her window. It opened upon theverandah. She moved across the room to shut it; but ere she reached it, Everard Monck came noiselessly through on slippered feet and bolted itbehind him. 

CHAPTER IX

THE CONSUMING FIRE

As he turned towards her, there came upon Stella, swift as a stabthrough the heart, the memory of that terrible night more than a yearbefore when he had drawn her into his room and fastened the windowbehind her--against whom? His wild words rushed upon her. She had deemedthem to be directed against the unknown intruder on the verandah. Sheknew now that the madness that had loosed his tongue had moved him toutter his fierce threat against a man who was dead--against the man whomhe had--She stopped the thought as she would have checked the wordhalf-spoken. She turned shivering away. The man on the verandah, thatvision of the night-watches, she saw it all now--she saw it all. And hehad loved her before her marriage. And he had known--and he hadknown--that, given opportunity, he could win her for his own. 

Like a throbbing undersong--the fiendish accompaniment to the devils'chorus--the gossip of the station as detailed by Tessa ran with glibmockery through her brain. Ah, they only suspected. But she knew--sheknew! The door of that secret chamber had opened wide to her at last, and perforce she had entered in. 

He had moved forward, but he had not spoken. At least she fancied not, but all her senses were in an uproar. And above it all she seemed tohear that dreadful little thrumming instrument down by the river atUdalkhand--the tinkling, mystic call of the vampire goddess, --India theinsatiable who had made him what he was. 

He came to her, and every fibre of her being was aware of him andthrilled at his coming. Never had she loved him as she loved him then, but her love was a fiery torment that burned and consumed her soul. Sheseemed to feel it blistering, shrivelling, in the cruel heat. 

Almost before she knew it, she had broken her silence, speaking as itwere in spite of herself, scarcely knowing in her anguish what she said. 

"Yes, I know. I know what you are going to say. You are going to tell methat I belong to you. And of course it is true, --I do. But if I staywith you, I shall be--a murderess. Nothing will alter that. "

"Stella!" he said. 

His voice was stern, so stern that she flinched. He laid his hand uponher, and she shrank as she would have shrunk from a hot iron searing herflesh. She had a wild thought that she would bear the brand of it forever. 

"Stella, " he said again, and in both tone and action there wascompulsion. "I have come to tell you that you are making a mistake. I aminnocent of this thing you suspect me of. "

She stood unresisting in his hold, but she was shaking all over. Thefloor seemed to be rising and falling under her feet. She knew that herlips moved several times before she could make them speak. 

"But I don't suspect, " she said. "The others suspect. I--know. "

He received her words in silence. She saw his face as through a shiftingvapour, very pale, very determined, with eyes of terrible intensitydominating her own. 

Half mechanically she repeated herself. It was as if that devilishthrumming in her brain compelled her. "The others suspect. I--know. "

"I see, " he said at last. "And nothing I can say will make anydifference?"

"Oh, no!" she made answer, and scarcely knew that she spoke, so cold andnumb had she become. "How could it--now?"

He looked at her, and suddenly he saw that to which his own sufferinghad momentarily blinded him. He saw her utter weakness. With a swifpassionate movement he caught her to him. For a second or two he heldher so, strained against his heart, then almost fiercely he turned herface up to his own and kissed the stiff white lips. 

"Be it so then!" he said, and in his voice was a deep note as though hechallenged all the powers of evil. "You are mine--and mine you willremain. "

She did not resist him though the touch of his lips was terrible to her. Only as they left her own, she turned her face aside. Very strangelythat savage lapse of his had given her strength. 

"Physically--perhaps--but only for a little while, " she said gaspingly. "And in spirit, never--never again!"

"What do you mean?" he said, his arms tightening about her. 

She kept her face averted. "I mean--that some forms of torture are worsethan death. If it comes to that--if you compel me--I shall choosedeath. "

"Stella!" He let her go so suddenly that she nearly fell. The utteranceof her name was as a cry wrung from him by sheer agony. He turned fromher with his hands over his face. "My God!" he said, and again almostinarticulately, "My--God!"

The low utterance pierced her, yet she stood motionless, her handsgripped hard together. He had forced the words from her, and they werepast recall. Nor would she have recalled them, had she been able, for itseemed to her that her love had become an evil thing, and her wholebeing shrank from it in a species of horrified abhorrence, even thoughshe could not cast it out. 

He had turned towards the window, and she watched him, her heart beatingin slow, hard strokes with a sound like a distant drum. Would he go?Would he remain? She almost prayed aloud that he would go. 

But he did not. Very suddenly he turned and strode back to her. Therewas purpose in every line of him, but there was no longer any violence. 

He halted before her. "Stella, " he said, and his voice was perfectlysteady and controlled, "do you think you are being altogether fair tome?"

She wrung her clasped hands. She could not answer him. 

He took them into his own very quietly. "Just look me in the face for aminute!" he said. 

She yearned to disobey, but she could not. Dumbly she raised her eyes tohis. 

He waited a moment, very still and composed. Then he spoke. "Stella, Iswear to you--and I call God to witness--that I did not kill RalphDacre. "

A dreadful shiver went through her at the bald brief words. She felt, asTommy had felt a little earlier, physically sick. The beating of herheart was getting slower and slower. She wondered if presently it wouldstop. 

"Do you believe me?" he said, still holding her eyes with his, stillclasping her icy hands firmly between his own. 

She forced herself to speak before that horrible sense of nauseaovercame her. "Perhaps--David--said the same thing--about Uriah theHittite. "

His face changed a little, but it was a change she could not havedefined. His eyes remained inscrutably fixed upon hers. They seemed toenchain her quivering soul. 

"No, " he said quietly. "Nor did I employ any one else to do it. "

"But you were there!" The words seemed suddenly to burst from herwithout her own volition. 

He drew back sharply, as if he had been struck. But he kept his eyesupon hers. "I can't explain anything, " he said. "I am not here toexplain. I only came to see if your love was great enough to make youbelieve in me--in spite of all there seems to be against me. Is it, Stella? Is it?"

His words seemed to go through her, tearing a way to her heart; theagony was more than she could bear. She uttered an anguished cry, andwrenched herself from him. "It isn't a question of love!" she said. "Youknow it isn't a question of love! I never wanted to love you. I neverwholly trusted you. But you forced my love--though you couldn't compelmy trust. And now that I know--now that I know--" her voice broke as ifthe torture were too great for her; she flung out her hands with agesture of driving him from her--"oh, it is hell on earth--hell onearth!"

He drew back for a second before her, his face deathly white. And thensuddenly an awful light leapt in his eyes. He gripped her outflunghands. The fire had kindled to a flame and the torture was too much forhim also. 

"Then you shall love me--even in hell!" he said, through his clenchedteeth, and locked her in the iron circle of his arms. 

She did not resist him. She was very near the end of her strength. Only, as he held her, her eyes met his, mutely imploring him.... 

It reached him even in his madness, that unspoken appeal. It checked himin the mid-furnace of his passion. His hold relaxed as if at a word ofcommand. He put her into a chair and turned himself from her. 

The next moment he was fumbling desperately at the window fastening. Thenight met him on the threshold. He heard her weeping, piteously, hopelessly, as he went away. 

CHAPTER X

THE DESERT PLACE

A single light shone across the verandah when Bernard Monck returnedlate in the night. It drew his steps though it did not come from any ofthe sitting-rooms. With the light tread often characteristic of heavymen, he approached it, realizing only at the last moment that it camefrom the window of his brother's room. 

Then for a second he hesitated. He was angry with Everard, more angrythan he could remember that he had ever been before. He questioned withhimself as to the wisdom of seeing him again that night. He doubted ifhe could be ordinarily civil to him at present, and a quarrel would helpno one. 

Still why was the fellow burning a light at that hour? An unacknowledgeduneasiness took possession of him and drove him forward. People seemedto do all manner of extravagant things in this fantastic country thatthey would never have dreamed of doing in homely old England. There mustbe something electric in the atmosphere that penetrated the veins. Evenhe had been aware of it now and then, a strange and potent influencethat drove a man to passionate deeds. 

He reached the window without sound just as Stella had reached it onthat night of rain long ago. With no consciousness of spying, driven byan urgent impulse he could not stop to question, he looked in. 

The window was ajar, as if it had been pushed to negligently by someoneentering, and in a flash Bernard had it wide. He went in as though hehad been propelled. 

A man--Everard--was standing half-dressed in the middle of the room. Hewas facing the window, and the light shone with ghastly distinctnessupon his face. But he did not look up. He was gazing fixedly into aglass of water he held in his hand, apparently watching some minutesubstance melting there. 

It was not the thing he held, but the look upon his face, that sentBernard forward with a spring. "Man!" he burst forth. "What are youdoing?"

Everard gave utterance to a fierce oath that was more like the cry of asavage animal than the articulate speech of a man. He stepped backsharply, and put the glass to his lips. But no drop that it containeddid he swallow, for in the same instant Bernard flung it violentlyaside. The glass spun across the room, and they grappled together forthe mastery. For a few seconds the battle was hot; then very suddenlythe elder man threw up his hands. 

"All right, " he said, between short gasps for breath. "You can hammerme--if you want someone to hammer. Perhaps--it'll do you good. "

He was free on the instant. Everard flung round and turned his back. Hedid not speak, but crossed the room and picked up the glass which layunbroken on the floor. 

Bernard followed him, still gasping for breath, "Give that to me!" hesaid. 

His soft voice was oddly stern. Everard looked at him. His hand, shakinga little, was extended. After a very definite pause, he placed the glasswithin it. There was a little white sediment left with a drain of waterat the bottom. With his blue eyes full upon his brother's face, Bernardlifted it to his own lips. 

But the next instant it was dashed away, and the glass shivered to atomsagainst the wall. "You--fool!" Everard said. 

A faint, faint smile that very strangely proclaimed a resemblancebetween them which was very seldom perceptible crossed Bernard's face. "I--thought so, " he said. "Now look here, boy! Let's stop beingmelodramatic for a bit! Take a dose of quinine instead! It seems to bethe panacea for all evils in this curious country. "

His voice was perfectly kind, even persusaive, but it carried a hint ofauthority as well, and Everard gave him a keen look as if aware of it. 

He was very pale but absolutely steady as he made reply. "I don't thinkquinine will meet the case on this occasion. "

"You prefer another kind of medicine, " Bernard suggested. And then withsudden feeling he held out his hand. "Everard, old chap, never do thatwhile you've a single friend left in the world! Do you want to break myheart? I only ask to stand by you. I'll stand by you to the very gatesof hell. Don't you know that?"

His voice trembled slightly. Everard turned and gripped the profferedhand hard in his own. 

"I suppose I--might have known, " he said. "But it's a bit rash of youall the same. "

His own voice quivered though he forced a smile. He would have turnedaway, but Bernard restrained him. 

"I don't care a tinker's damn what you've done, " he said forcibly. "Remember that! We're brothers, and I'll stick to you. If there'sanything in life that I can do to help, I'll do it. If there isn't, well, I won't worry you, but you know you can count on me just the same. You'll never stand alone while I live. "

It was generously spoken. The words came straight from his soul. He puthis hand on his brother's shoulder as he uttered them. His eyes were astender as the eyes of a woman. 

And suddenly, without warning, Everard's strength failed him. It waslike the snapping of a stretched wire. "Oh, man!" he said, and coveredhis face. 

Bernard's arm was round him in a moment, a staunch, upholding arm. "Everard--dear old chap--can't you tell me what it is?" he said. "Godknows I'll die sooner than let you down. "

Everard did not answer. His breathing was hard, spasmodic, intenselypainful to hear. He had the look of a man stricken in his pride. 

For a space Bernard stood dumbly supporting him. Then at length veryquietly he moved and guided him to a chair. 

"Take your time!" he said gently. "Sit down!"

Mutely Everard submitted. The agony of that night had stripped hismanhood of its reserve. He sat crouched, his head bowed upon hisclenched hands. 

"Wait while I fetch you a drink!" Bernard said. 

He was gone barely two minutes. Returning, he fastened the window anddrew the curtain across. Then he bent again over the huddled figure inthe chair. 

"Take a mouthful of this, old fellow! It'll pull you together. "

Everard groped outwards with a quivering hand. "Give me strength--toshoot myself, " he muttered. 

The words were only just audible, but Bernard caught them. "No, --giveyou strength to play the game, " he said, and held the glass he hadbrought to his brother's lips. 

Everard drank with closed eyes and sat forward again motionless. Hisface was bloodless. "I'm sorry, St. Bernard, " he said, after a moment. "Forgive me for manhandling you--and all the rest, if you can!" He drewa long, hard breath. "Thanks for everything! Good-night!"

"But I'm not leaving you, " said Bernard, gently. "Not like this. "

"Like what?" Everard opened his eyes with an abrupt effort. "Oh, I'm allright. Don't you bother about me!" he said. 

Their eyes met. For a second longer Bernard stood over him. Then he wentdown upon his knees by his side. "I swear I won't leave you, " he said, "until you've told me this trouble of yours. "

Everard shook his head instantly, but his hand went out and closed uponthe arm that had upheld him. He was beginning to recover his habitualself-command. "It's no good, old chap. I can't, " he said. And addedalmost involuntarily, "That's--the hell of it!"

"But you can, " Bernard said. He still looked him straight in the eyes. "You can and you will. Call it a confession--I've heard a good many inmy time--and tell me everything!"

"Confess to you!" A hint of surprise showed in Everard's heavy eyes. "You'd better not tempt me to do that, " he said. "You might be sorryafterwards. "

"I will risk it, " Bernard said. 

"Risk being made an accessory to--what you may regard as a crime?"Everard said. "Forgive me--you're a parson, I know, --but are you sureyou can play the part?"

Bernard smiled a little at the question. "Yes, I can, " he said. "Aconfession is sacred--whatever it is. And I swear to you--by God inHeaven--to treat it as such. "

Everard was looking at him fixedly, but something of the strain went outof his look at the words. A gleam of relief crossed his face. 

"All right. I will--confess to you, " he said. "But I warn youbeforehand, you'll be horribly shocked. And--you won't feel likeabsolving me afterwards. "

"That's not my job, dear fellow, " Bernard answered gently. "Go ahead!You're sure of my sympathy anyway. "

"Am I? You're a good chap, St. Bernard. Look here, don't kneel there!It's not suitable for a father confessor, " Everard's faint smile showedfor a moment. 

Bernard's hand closed upon his. "Go ahead!" he said again, "I'm allright. "

Everard made an abrupt gesture that had in it something of surrender. "It's soon told, " he said, "though I don't know why I should burden youwith it. That fellow Ralph Dacre--I didn't murder him. I wish to HeavenI had. So far as I know--he is alive. "

"Ah!" Bernard said

Jerkily, with obvious effort, Everard continued. "I'm a murderous bruteno doubt. But if I had the chance to kill him now, I'd take it. You seewhat it means, don't you? It means that Stella--that Stella--" He brokeoff with a convulsive movement, and dropped back into a torturedsilence. 

"Yes. I see what it means, " Bernard said. 

After an interval Everard forced out a few more words. "About afortnight after their marriage I got your letter telling me he had awife living. I went straight after them in native disguise, and made himclear out. That's the whole story. "

"I see, " Bernard said again. 

Again there fell a silence between them. Everard sat bowed, his head onhis hand. The awful pallor was passing, but the stricken look remained. 

Bernard spoke at last. "You have no idea what became of him?"

"Not the faintest. He went. That was all that concerned me. " Grimly, without lifting his head, he made answer. "You know the rest--or you canguess. Then you came, and told me that the woman--Dacre's wife--diedbefore his marriage to Stella. I've been in hell ever since. "

"I wish to Heaven I'd stopped away!" Bernard exclaimed with suddenvehemence. 

Everard shifted his position slightly to glance at him. "Don't wishthat!" he said. "After all, it would probably have come out somehow. "

"And--Stella?" Bernard spoke with hesitation, as if uncertain of hisground. "What does she think? How much does she know?"

"She thinks like the rest. She thinks I murdered the hound. And I'drather she thought that, " there was dogged suffering in Everard'svoice, "than suspected the truth. "

"You think--" Bernard still spoke with slight hesitation--"that willhurt her less?"

"Yes. " There was stubborn conviction in the reply. Everard slowlystraightened himself and faced his brother squarely. "There is--thechild, " he said. 

Bernard shook his head slightly. "You're wrong, old fellow. You'remaking a mistake. You are choosing the hardest course for her as well asyourself. "

Everard's jaw hardened. "I shall find a way out for myself, " he said. "She shall be left in peace. "

"What do you mean?" Bernard said. Then as he made no reply, he took himfirmly by the shoulders. "No--no! You won't. You won't, " he said. "That's not you, my boy--not when you've sanely thought it out. "

Everard suffered his hold; but his face remained set in grim lines. "There is no other way, " he said. "Honestly, I see no other way. "

"There is another way. " Very steadily, with the utmost confidence, Bernard made the assertion. "There always is. God sees to that. You'llfind it presently. "

Everard smiled very wearily at the words. "I've given up expecting anylight from that quarter, " he said. "It seems to me that He hasn't muchuse for the wanderers once they get off the beaten track. "

"Oh, my dear chap!" Bernard's hands pressed upon him suddenly. "Do youreally believe He has no care for that which is lost? Have you blunderedalong all this time and never yet seen the lamp in the desert? You willsee it--like every other wanderer--sooner or later, if you only have thepluck to keep on. "

"You seem mighty sure of that. " Everard looked at him with a species ofdull curiosity. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am sure. " Bernard spoke vigorously. "And so are you in yourheart. You know very well that if you only push on you won't be left todie in the wilderness. Have you never thought to yourself after aparticularly dark spell that there has always been a speck of lightsomewhere--never total darkness for any length of time? That's the lampin the desert, old chap. And--whether you realize it or not--God put itthere. "

He ceased to speak, and rose quietly to his feet; then, as Everardstretched a hand to him, gave him a steady pull upwards. They stood faceto face. 

"And that, " Bernard added, after a few moments, "is all I've got to say. You turn in now and get a rest! If you want me, well, you know where tofind me--just any time. "

"Thanks!" Everard said. His hand held his brother's hard. "But--beforeyou go--there's one thing I want to say--no, two. " A shadowy smiletouched his grim lips and vanished. His eyes were still and whollyremote, sheltering his soul. 

"Go ahead!" said Bernard gently. 

Everard paused for a second. "You have asked no promise of me, " he saidthen; "but--I'll make you one. And I want one from you in return. "

Again he paused, as if he had some difficulty in finding words. 

"You can rely on me, " Bernard said. 

"Yes, old fellow. " For an instant his eyes smiled also. "I know it. It'sby that fact alone that you've gained your point. And so I'll hang onsomehow for the present--find another way--anyhow hang on, just becauseyou are what you are--and because--" his voice sank a little--"youcare. "

"Don't you know I love you before any one else in the world?" Bernardsaid, giving him a mighty grip. 

"Yes, " Everard looked him straight in the face, "I do. And it means moreto me than perhaps you think. In fact--it's everything to me just now. That's why I want you to promise me--whatever happens--whatever I decideto do--that you will stay within reach of--that you will take careof--my--my--of Stella. " He ended abruptly, with a quick gesture thatheld entreaty. 

And Bernard's reply came instantly, almost before he had ceased tospeak. "Before God, old chap, I will. "

"Thanks, " Everard said again. He stood for a few moments as if debatingsomething further, but in the end he freed himself and turned away. "Shewill be all right, with you, " he said. "You're--safe anyhow. "

"Quite safe, " said Bernard steadily. 

PART V

CHAPTER I

GREATER THAN DEATH

"If you ask me, " said Bertie Oakes, propping himself up in an elegantattitude against a pillar of the Club verandah, "it's my belief thatthere's going to be--a bust-up. "

"Nobody did ask you, " observed Tommy rudely. 

He generally was rude nowadays, and had been haled before a subalterns'court-martial only the previous evening for that very reason. Thesentence passed had been of a somewhat drastic nature, and certainly hadnot improved his temper or his manners. To be stripped, boundscientifically, and "dipped" in the Club swimming-bath till, as Oakesput it, all the venom had been drenched out of him, was an experiencefor which only one utterly reckless would qualify twice. 

Tommy had come through it with a dumb endurance which had somewhatspoilt the occasion for his tormentors, had gone back to The GreenBungalow as soon as his punishment was over, and for the first time haddrunk heavily in the privacy of his room. 

He sat now in a huddled position on the Club verandah, "looking like asick chimpanzee" as Oakes assured him, "ready to bite--if he dared--at amoment's notice. "

Mrs. Ralston was seated near. She had a motherly eye upon Tommy. 

"Now what exactly do you mean by a 'bust-up, ' Mr. Oakes?" she asked withher gentle smile. 

Oakes blew a cloud of smoke upwards. He liked airing his opinions, especially when there were several ladies within earshot. 

"What do I mean?" he said, with a pomposity carefully moulded upon theColonel's mode of delivery on a guest-night. "I mean, my dear Mrs. Ralston, that which would have to be suppressed--a rising among thenative element of the State. "

"Ape!" growled Tommy under his breath. 

Oakes caught the growl, and made a downward motion with his thumb whichonly Tommy understood. 

Mrs. Burton's soft, false laugh filled the pause that followed hispronouncement. "Surely no one could openly object to the conviction of anative murderer!" she said. "I hear that the evidence is quiteconclusive. Captain Monck has spared no pains in that direction. "

"Captain Monck, " observed Lady Harriet, elevating her long nose, "seemsto be exceptionally well qualified for that kind of service. "

"Set a thief to catch a thief, what?" suggested Oakes lightly. "Yes, heseems to be quite good at it. Just as well in a way, perhaps. Someonehas got to do the dirty work, though it would be preferable for all ofus if he were a policeman by profession. "

It was too carelessly spoken to sound actively malevolent. But Tommy, with his arms gripped round his knees, raised eyes of bloodshot fury tothe speaker's face. 

"If any one could take a first class certificate for dirty work, itwould be you, " he said, speaking very distinctly between clenched teeth. 

A sudden silence fell upon the assembly. Oakes looked down at Tommy, andTommy glared up at Oakes. 

Then abruptly Major Ralston, who had been standing in the backgroundwith a tall drink in his hand, slouched forward and let himself downponderously on the edge of the verandah by Tommy's side. 

"Go away, Bertie!" he said. "We've listened to your wind instrument longenough. Tommy, you shut up, or I'll give you the beastliest physic Iknow! What were we talking about? Mary, give us a lead!"

He appealed to his wife, who glanced towards Lady Harriet with a hint ofembarrassment. 

Major Ralston at once addressed himself to her. He was never embarrassedby any one, and never went out of his way to be pleasant without goodreason. 

"This murder trial is going to be sensational, " he said, "I've just gotback from giving evidence as to the cause of death and I have it on goodauthority that a certain august personage in Markestan is shaking in hisshoes as to the result of the business. "

"I have heard that too, " said Lady Harriet. 

It was a curious fact that though she was always ready, and would evengo out of her way, to snub the surgeon's wife, she had never once beenother than gracious to the surgeon. 

"I don't suppose he will be actively implicated. He's too wily forthat, " went on Major Ralston. "But there's not much doubt according toBarnes, that he was in the know--very much so, I should imagine. " Heglanced about him. "Mrs. Ermsted isn't here, is she?"

"No dear. I left her resting, " his wife said. "This affair is verytrying for her--naturally. " He assented somewhat grimly. "I wonder shestayed for it. Now Tessa on the other hand yearns for the murderer'shead in a charger. That child is getting too Eastern in her ideas. Itwill be a good thing to get her Home. "

Mrs. Burton intervened with a simper. "Yes, she really is a naughtylittle thing, and I cannot say I shall be sorry when she is gone. Mysmall son is at such a very receptive age. "

"Yes, he's old enough to go to school and be licked into shape, " saidMajor Ralston brutally. "He flings stones at my car every time I pass. Ishall stop and give him a licking myself some day when I have time. "

"Really, Major Ralston, I hope you will not do anything so cruel, "protested Mrs. Burton. "We never correct him in that way ourselves. "

"Pity you don't, " said Major Ralston. "An unlicked cub is an insult tocreation. Give him to me for a little while! I'll undertake to improvehim both morally and physically to such an extent that you won't knowhim. "

Here Tommy uttered a brief, wholly involuntary guffaw. 

"What's the matter with you?" said Ralston. 

"Nothing. " His gloom dropped upon him again like a mantle. "Have youbeen at Khanmulla all day?"

"Yes; a confounded waste of time it's been too. " Ralston took a deepdrink and set down his glass. 

"You always think it's a waste of time if you can't be doctoringsomebody, " muttered Tommy. 

"Don't be offensive!" said Ralston. "I know what's the matter with you, my son, but I should keep it to myself if I were you. As a matter offact I did give medical advice to somebody this afternoon--which ofcourse he won't take. "

Tommy's face was suddenly scarlet. It was solely the maternal protectiveinstinct that induced Mrs. Ralston to bend forward and speak. 

"Do you mean Captain Monck, Gerald?" she asked. 

Major Ralston cast a comprehensive glance around the little groupassembled near him, finishing his survey upon Tommy's burningcountenance. "Yes--Monck, " he said. "He's staying with Barnes atKhanmulla to see this affair through. If I were Mrs. Monck I should bepretty anxious about him. He says it's insomnia. "

"Is he ill?" It was Tommy who spoke, his voice quick and low, all thesullen embarrassment gone from his demeanour. 

The doctor's eyes dwelt upon him for a moment longer before he answered. "I never saw such a change in any man in such a short time. He'll have abad break-down if he doesn't watch out. "

"He works too hard, " said Mrs. Ralston sympathetically. 

Her husband nodded. "If it weren't for that sickly baby of hers, Ishould advise his wife to go straight to him and look after him. Butperhaps when this trial is over he will be able to take a rest. I shallorder the whole family to Bhulwana if I get the chance. " He got up withthe words, and faced the company with a certain dogged aggressivenessthat compelled attention. "It's hard, " he said, "to see a fine chap likethat knocked out. He's about the best man we've got, and we can't affordto lose him. "

He waited for someone to take up the challenge, but no one showed anyinclination to do so. Only after a moment Tommy also sprang up as ifthere was something in the situation that chafed him beyond endurance. 

Ralston looked at him again, critically, not over-favourably. "Where areyou off to in such a hurry?" he said. 

Tommy hunched his shoulders, all defiance in a second. "Going for aride, " he growled. "Any objection?"

Ralston turned away. "None whatever, my young porcupine. Have mercy onyour nag, that's all--and don't break your own neck!"

Tommy strode wrathfully away to the sound of Mrs. Burton's titteringlaugh. With the exception of Mrs. Ralston, who really did not count, hehated every one of the party that he left behind on the Club verandah, and he did not attempt to disguise the fact. 

But when an hour later he rolled off his horse in the compound of thepoliceman's bungalow at Khanmulla, his mood had undergone a completechange. There was nothing defiant or even assertive about him as heapplied for admittance. He looked beaten, tried beyond his strength. 

It was growing rapidly dark as he followed Barnes's _khansama_ into thelong bare room which he used as his private office. The man brought hima lamp and told him that the _sahibs_ would be back soon. They had gonedown to the Court House again, but they might return at any time. 

He also brought him whisky and soda which Tommy did not touch, spendingthe interval of waiting that ensued in fevered tramping to and fro. 

He had not seen Monck alone since the evening of Tessa's birthday-partynearly three weeks before. On the score of business connected with theapproaching trial, Monck had come to Khanmulla immediately afterwards, and no one at Kurrumpore had had more than an occasional glimpse of himsince. But he meant to see him alone now, and he had given very explicitinstructions to that effect to the servant, accompanied by a substantialspecies of persuasion that could not fail to achieve its object. 

When the sound of voices told him at last of the return of the two men, he drew back out of sight of the window while the obsequious _khansama_went forth upon his errand. Then a moment or two later he heard themseparate, and one alone came in his direction. Everard entered with thegait of a tired man. 

The lamp dazzled him for a second, and Tommy saw him first. He smotheredan involuntary exclamation and stepped forward. 

"Tommy!" said Monck, as if incredulous. 

Tommy stood in front of him, his hands at his sides. "Yes, it's me. Ihad to come over--just to have a look at you. Ralston said--said--oh, damn it, it doesn't matter what he said. Only I had to--just come andsee for myself. You see, I--I--" he faltered badly, but recoveredhimself under the straight gaze of Everard's eyes--"I can't get thethought of you out of my mind. I've been a damn' cur. You won't want tospeak to me of course, but when Ralston started jawing about you thisafternoon, I found--I found--" he choked suddenly--"I couldn't stand itany longer, " he said in a strangled whisper. 

Monck was looking full at him by the merciless glare of the lamp on thetable, which revealed himself very fully also. All the grim lines in hisface seemed to be accentuated. He looked years older. The hair above histemples gleamed silver where it caught the light. 

He did not speak at once. Only as Tommy made a blind movement as if togo, he put forth a hand and took him by the arm. 

"Tommy, " he said, "what have you been doing?"

Out of deep hollows his eyes looked forth, indomitable, relentless asthey had ever been, searching the boy's downcast face. 

Tommy quivered a little under their piercing scrutiny, but he made noattempt to avoid it. 

"Look at me!" Monck commanded. 

He raised his eyes for a moment, and in spite of himself Monck wassoftened by the utter misery they held. 

"You always were an ass, " he commented. "But I thought you had morestrength of mind than this. "

Tommy made an impotent gesture. "I'm a beast--I'm a skunk!" he declared, with tremulous vehemence. "I'm not fit to speak to you!"

The shadow of a smile crossed Monck's face. "And you've come all thisway to tell me so?" he said. "You've no business here either. You oughtto be at the Mess. "

"Damn the Mess!" said Tommy fiercely. "They'll tell me I rattedto-morrow. I don't care. Let 'em say what they like! It's you thatmatters. Man, how infernally ill you look!"

Monck checked the personal allusion. "I'm not ill. But what have youbeen up to? Are you in a row?"

Tommy essayed a laugh. "No, nothing serious. The blithering idiotsducked me yesterday for being disrespectful, that's all. I don't care. It's you I care about, Everard, old chap!"

His voice held sudden pleading, but his face was turned away. He hadmeant to say more, but could not. He stood biting his lips desperatelyin a mute struggle for self-control. 

Everard waited a few seconds, giving him time; then abruptly he moved, slapped a hand on Tommy's shoulder and gave him a shake. 

"Tommy, don't be so beastly cheap! I'm ashamed of you. What's thematter?"

Tommy yielded impulsively to the bracing grip, but he kept his faceaverted. "That's just it, " he blurted out. "I feel cheap. Fact is, Icame--I came to ask you to--forgive me. But now I'm here, --I'm damned ifI have the cheek. "

"What do you want my forgiveness for? I thought I was the transgressor. "Everard's voice was a curious blend of humour and sadness. 

Tommy turned to him with a sudden boyish gesture so spontaneous as tooverride all barriers. "Oh, I know all that. But it doesn't count. See?I don't know how I ever had the infernal presumption to think it did, orto ask you--you, of all men--to explain your actions. I don't want anyexplanation. I believe in you without, simply because I can't help it. Iknow--without any proof, --that you're sound. And--and--I beg your pardonfor being such a cur as to doubt you. There! That's what I came to say. Now it's your turn. "

The tears were in his eyes, but he made no further attempt to hide them. All that was great in his nature had come to the surface, and there wasno room left for self-consciousness. 

Monck realized it, and it affected him deeply, depriving him of thepower to respond. He had not expected this from Tommy, had not believedhim capable of it. But there was no doubting the boy's sincerity. Through those tears which Tommy had forgotten to hide, he saw the oldloving trust shine out at him, the old whole-hearted admiration andhonour offered again without reservation and without stint. 

He opened his lips to speak, but something rose in his throat, preventing him. He held out his hand in silence, and in that wordlessgrip the love which is greater than death made itself felt betweenthem--a bond imperishable which no earthly circumstance could ever againviolate--the Power Omnipotent which conquers all things. 

CHAPTER II

THE LAMP

The orange light of the morning was breaking over the jungle when twohorsemen rode out upon the Kurrumpore road and halted between the ricefields. 

"I say, come on a bit further!" Tommy urged. "There's plenty of time. "

But the other shook his head. "No, I can't. I promised Barnes to be backearly. Good-bye, Tommy my lad! Keep your end up!"

"I will, " Tommy promised, and thrust out a hand. "And you'll hang on, won't you? Promise!"

"All right; for the present. My love to Bernard. " Everard spoke with hisusual brevity, but his handclasp was remembered by Tommy for a very longtime after. 

"And to Stella?" he said, pushing his horse a little nearer till itmuzzled against its fellow. 

Everard's eyes, grave and dark, looked out to the low horizon. "I thinknot, " he said. "She has--no further use for it. "

"She will have, " said Tommy quickly. 

But Everard passed the matter by in silence. "You must be getting on, "he said, and relaxed his grip. "Good-bye, old chap! You've done me good, if that is any consolation to you. "

"Oh, man!" said Tommy, and coloured like a girl. "Not--not really!"

Everard uttered his curt laugh, and switched Tommy's mount across thewithers. "Be off with you, you--cuckoo!" he said. 

And Tommy grinned and went. 

Half-an-hour later he was sounding an impatient tatto upon his sister'sdoor. 

She came herself to admit him, but the look upon her face checked thegreeting on his lips. 

"What on earth's the matter?" he said instead. 

She was shivering as if with cold, though the risen sun had filled theworld with spring-like warmth. It occurred to him as he entered, thatshe was looking pinched and ill, and he put a comforting arm around her. 

"What is it, Stella girl? Tell me!"

She relaxed against him with a sob. "I've been--horribly anxious aboutyou, " she said. 

"Oh, is that all?" said Tommy. "What a waste of time! I was only over atKhanmulla. I spent the night at Barnes's bungalow because they wouldn'ttrust me in the jungle after dark. "

"They?" she questioned. 

"Barnes and Everard, " Tommy said, and faced her squarely. "I went to seeEverard. "

"Ah!" She caught her breath. "Major Ralston has been here. He toldme--he told me--" her voice failed; she laid her head down upon Tommy'sshoulder. 

He tightened his arm about her. "It's a shame of Ralston to frightenyou. He isn't ill. " Then a sudden thought striking him, "What was hedoing here so early? Isn't the kid up to the mark?"

She shivered against him again. "He had a strange attack in the night, and Major Ralston said--said--oh, Tommy, " she suddenly clung to him, "Iam going to lose him. He--isn't--like other children. "

"Ralston said that?" demanded Tommy. 

"He didn't tell me. He told Bernard. I practically forced Bernard totell me, but I think he thought I ought to know. He said--he said--itisn't to be desired that my baby should live. "

"What?" said Tommy in dismay. "Oh, my darling girl, I am sorry! What'swrong with the poor little chap?"

With her face hidden against him she made whispered answer. "You knowhe--came too soon. They thought at first he was all right, butnow--symptoms have begun to show themselves. We thought he was justdelicate, but it isn't only that. Last night--in the night--" sheshuddered suddenly and violently and paused to control herself--"Ican't talk about it. It was terrible. Major Ralston says he doesn'tsuffer, but it looks like suffering. And, oh, Tommy, --he is all I haveleft. "

Tommy held her comfortingly close. "I say, wouldn't you like Everard tocome to you?" he said. 

"Oh no! Oh no!" Her refusal was instant. "I can't see him. Tommy, whysuggest such a thing? You know I can't. "

"I know he's a good man, " Tommy said steadily. "Just listen a minute, old girl! I know things look black enough against him, so black thatit's probable he'll have to send in his papers. But I tell you he's allright. I didn't think so at first. I thought the same as you do. Butsomehow that suspicion has got worn out. It was pretty beastly while itlasted, but I came to my senses at last. And I've been to tell him so. He was jolly decent about it, though he didn't tell me a thing. I didn'twant him to. Besides, he always is decent. How could he be otherwise?And now we're just as we were--friends. "

There was no mistaking the satisfaction in Tommy's voice. He even spokewith pride, and hearing it, Stella withdrew herself slowly and wearilyfrom his arms. 

"It's rather different for you, Tommy, " she said. "A man's standards aredifferent, I know. There may be what you call extenuatingcircumstances--though I can't quite imagine it. I'm too tired to argueabout it, Tommy dear, and you mustn't be vexed with me. I can't go intoit with you, but I feel as if it is I--I myself--who have committed anawful sin. And it has got to be expiated, perhaps that is why my babyis to be taken from me. Bernard says it is not so. But then--Bernard isa man too. " There was a sound of heartbreak in her voice as she ended. She put up her hands with a gesture as of trying to put away somemonstrous thing that threatened to crush her--a gesture that wentstraight to Tommy's warm heart. 

"Oh, poor old girl!" he said impulsively, and took the hands into hisown. "I say, ought I to be in here? Aren't you supposed to be resting?"

She smiled at him wanly. "I believe I am. Major Ralston left a soothingdraught, but I wouldn't take it, in case--" she broke off. "Peter is onguard as well as _Ayah_, and he has promised to call me if--if--" Againshe stopped. "I don't think _Ayah_ is much good, " she resumed. "She wasnearly frightened out of her senses last night. She seems to think thereis something--supernatural about it. But Peter--Peter is a tower ofstrength. I trust him implicitly. "

"Yes, he's a good chap, " said Tommy. "I'm glad you've got him anyway. Iwish I could be more of a help to you. "

She leaned forward and kissed him. "You are very dear to me, Tommy. Idon't know what I should do without you and Bernard. "

"Where is the worthy padre?" asked Tommy. 

"He may be working in his room. He is certainly not far away. He neveris nowadays. "

"I'll go and find him, " said Tommy. "But look here, dear! Have thatdraught of Ralston's and lie down! Just to please me!"

She began to refuse, but Tommy could be very persuasive when he chose, and he chose on this occasion. Finally, with reluctance she yielded, since, as he pointed out, she needed all the strength she could muster. 

He tucked her up with motherly care, feeling that he had accomplishedsomething worth doing, and then, seeing that exhaustion would do therest, he left her and went softly forth in search of Bernard. 

The latter, however, was not in the bungalow, and since it was growinglate Tommy had a hurried bath and dressed for parade. He was bolting ahasty _tiffin_ in the dining-room when a quiet step on the verandahwarned him of Bernard's approach, and in a moment or two the big manentered, a pipe in his mouth and a book under his arm. 

"Hullo, Tommy!" he said with his genial smile. "So you haven't beenmurdered this time. I congratulate you. "

"Thanks!" said Tommy. 

"I congratulate myself also, " said Bernard, patting his shoulder by wayof greeting. "If it weren't against my principles, I should have beenvery worried about you, my lad. For I couldn't get away to look foryou. "

"Of course not, " said Tommy. "And I was safe enough. I've been over toKhanmulla. Everard made me spend the night, and we rode back thismorning. "

"Everard! He isn't here?" Bernard looked round sharply. 

"No, " said Tommy bluntly. "But he ought to be. He went back again. He iswanted for that trial business. I say, things are pretty rotten here, aren't they? Is the little kid past hope?"

"I am afraid so. " Bernard spoke very gravely. His kindly face was moresombre than Tommy had ever seen it. 

"But can nothing be done?" the boy urged. "It'll break Stella's heart tolose him. "

Bernard shook his head. "Nothing whatever I am afraid. Major Ralston hassuspected trouble for some time, it seems. We might of course get aspecialist's opinion at Calcutta, but the baby is utterly unfit for ajourney of any kind, and it is doubtful if any doctor would come allthis way--especially with things as they are. "

"What do you mean?" said Tommy. 

Bernard looked at him. "The place is a hotbed of discontent--if notanarchy. Surely you know that!"

Tommy shrugged his shoulders. "That's nothing new. It's what we're herefor. "

"Yes. And matters are getting worse. I hear that the result of thistrial will probably mean the Rajah's enforced abdication. And if thathappens there is practically bound to be a rising. "

Tommy laughed. "That's been the situation as long as I've been out. We're giving him enough rope, and I hope he'll hang, though I'm afraidhe won't. The rising will probably be a sort of Chinese crackeraffair--a fizz, a few bangs, and a splutter-out. No honour and glory forany one!"

"I hope you are right, " said Bernard. 

"And I hope I'm wrong, " said Tommy lightly. "I like a run for my money. "

"You forget the women, " said Bernard abruptly. 

Tommy opened his eyes. "No, I don't. They'll be all right. They'll haveto clear out to Bhulwana a little earlier than usual. They'll be safeenough there. You can go and look after 'em, sir. They'll like that. "

"Thank you, Tommy. " Bernard smiled in spite of himself. "It's kind ofyou to put it so tactfully. Now tell me what you think of Everard. Is hereally ill?"

"No; worried to death, that's all. He's talking of sending in hispapers. Did you know?"

"I suspected he would, " Bernard spoke thoughtfully. 

"He mustn't do it!" said Tommy with vehemence. "He's worth all the restof the Mess put together. You mustn't let him. "

Bernard lifted his brows. "I let him!" he said. "Do you think he isgoing to do what I tell him?"

"I know you have influence--considerable influence--with him, " Tommysaid. "You ought to use it, sir. You really ought. It's up to you and noone else. "

He spoke insistently. Bernard looked at him attentively. 

"You've changed your tune somewhat, haven't you, Tommy?" he said. 

"Yes, " said Tommy bluntly. "I have. I've been a damn' fool if you wantto know--the biggest, damnedest fool on the face of creation. And I'vebeen and told him so. "

"For no particular reason?" Bernard's blue eyes grew keener in theirregard. He looked at Tommy with more interest than he had ever beforebestowed upon him. 

Tommy's face was red, but he replied without embarrassment. "Certainly. I've come to my senses, that's all. I've come to realize--what I reallyknew all along--that he's a white man, white all through, however blackhe chooses to be painted. And I'm ashamed that I ever doubted him. "

"He hasn't told you anything?" questioned Bernard, still closelysurveying the flushed countenance. 

"No!" said Tommy, and his voice rang on a note of indignant pride. "Whythe devil should he tell me anything? I'm his friend. Thank the gods, Ican trust him without. "

Bernard held out his hand suddenly. The interest had turned to somethingwarmer. He looked at the boy with genuine admiration. "I take off my hatto you, Tommy, " he said. "Everard is a deuced lucky man. "

"What?" said Tommy, and turned deep crimson. "Oh, rot, sir! That's rot!"He gripped the extended hand with warmth notwithstanding. "It's all theother way round. I can't tell you what he's been to me. Why, I--I'd diefor him, if I had the chance. "

"Yes, " Bernard said with simplicity. "I'm sure you would, boy. And it'sjust that I like about you. You're just the sort of friend he needs--thesort of friend God sends along to hold up the lamp when the night isdark. There! You want to be off. I won't keep you. But you're a whiteman yourself, Tommy, and I shan't forget it. "

"Oh, rats--rats--rats!" said Tommy rudely, and escaped through thewindow at headlong speed. 

CHAPTER III

TESSA'S MOTHER

"It really isn't my fault, " said Netta fretfully. "I don't see why youshould lecture me about it, Mary. I can't help being attractive. "

"My dear, " said Mrs. Ralston patiently, "that was not my point. I amonly urging you to show a little discretion. You do not want to be anobject of scandal, I am sure. The finger of suspicion has been pointedat the Rajah a good many times lately, and I do think that for Tessa'ssake, if not for your own, you ought to put a check upon your intimacywith him. 

"Bother Tessa!" said Netta. "I don't see that I owe her anything. "

Mrs. Ralston sighed a little, but she persevered. "The child is at anage when she needs the most careful training. Surely you want her torespect you!"

Netta laughed. "I really don't care a straw what she does. Tessa doesn'tinterest me. I wanted a boy, you know. I never had any use for girls. Besides, she gets on my nerves at every turn. We shall never be kindredspirits. "

"Poor little Tessa!" said Mrs. Ralston gently. "She has such a lovingheart. "

"She doesn't love me, " said Tessa's mother without regret. "I supposeyou'll say that's my fault too. Everything always is, isn't it?"

"I think--in fact I am sure--that love begets love, " said Mrs. Ralston. "Perhaps when you and she get to England together, you will become moreto each other. "

"Out of sheer _ennui_?" suggested Netta. "Oh, don't let's talk ofEngland--I hate the thought of it. I'm sure I was created for the East. Hence the sympathy that exists between the Rajah and myself. You know, Mary, you really are absurdly prejudiced against him. Richard was thesame. He never had any cause to be jealous. They simply didn't come intothe same category. "

Mrs. Ralston looked at her with wonder in her eyes. "You seem toforget, " she said, "that Richard's murderer is being tried, and thatthis man is very strongly suspected of being an abettor if not theactual instigator of the crime. "

Netta flicked the ash from her cigarette with a gesture of impatience. "I only wish you would let me forget these unpleasant things, " she said. "Why don't you go and preach a sermon to the beautiful Stella Monck onthe same text? Ralph Dacre's death was quite as much of a mystery. Andthe kindly gossips are every bit as busy with Captain Monck's reputationas with His Excellency's. But I suppose her devotion to that wretchedlittle imbecile baby of hers renders her immune!"

She spoke with intentional malice, but she scarcely expected to strikehome. Mary was not, in her estimation, over-endowed with brains, and shenever seemed to mind a barbed thrust or two. But on this occasion Mrs. Ralston upset her calculations. 

She arose in genuine wrath. "Netta!" she said. "I think you are the mostheartless, callous woman I have ever met!"

And with that she went straight from the room, shutting the door firmlybehind her. 

"Good gracious!" commented Netta. "Mary in a tantrum! What an excitingspectacle!"

She stretched her slim body like a cat as she lay with the warm sunshinepouring over her, and presently she laughed. 

"How funny! How very funny! Netta, my dear, they'll be calling youwicked next. "

She pursed her lips over the adjective as if she rather enjoyed it, thenstretched herself again luxuriously, with sensuous enjoyment. She hadriden with the Rajah in the early morning, and was pleasantly tired. 

The sudden approach of Tessa, scampering along the verandah in the wakeof Scooter, sent a quick frown to her face, which deepened swiftly asScooter, dodging nimbly, ran into the room and went to earth behind abamboo screen. 

Tessa sprang in after him, but pulled up sharply at sight of hermother. The frown upon Netta's face was instantly reflected upon herown. She stood expectant of rebuke. 

"What a noisy child you are!" said Netta. "Are you never quiet, Iwonder? And why did you let that horrid little beast come in here? Youknow I detest him. "

"He isn't horrid!" said Tessa, instantly on the defensive. "And Icouldn't help him coming in. I didn't know you were here, but it isn'tyour bungalow anyway, and Aunt Mary doesn't mind him. "

"Oh, go away!" said Netta with irritation. "You get more insufferableevery day. Take the little brute with you and shut him up--or drownhim!"

Tessa came forward with an insolent shrug. There was more than a spiceof defiance in her bearing. 

"I don't suppose I can catch him, " she said. "But I'll try. "

The chase of the elusive Scooter that followed would have been an affairof pure pleasure to the child, had it not been for the presence of hermother and the growing exasperation with which she regarded it. It wasall sheer fun to Scooter who wormed in and out of the furniture withmirth in his gleaming eyes, and darted past the window a dozen timeswithout availing himself of that means of escape. 

Netta's small stock of patience was very speedily exhausted. She sat upon the sofa and sternly commanded Tessa to desist. 

"Go and tell the _khit_ to catch him!" she said. 

Tessa, however, by this time had also warmed to the game. She paid nomore attention to her mother's order than she would have paid to thebuzzing of a mosquito. And when Scooter dived under the sofa on whichNetta had been reclining, she burrowed after him with a squeal ofmerriment. 

It was too much for Netta whose feelings had been decidedly ruffledbefore Tessa's entrance. As Scooter shot out on the other side of her, running his queer zigzag course, she snatched the first thing that cameto hand, which chanced to be a heavy bronze weight from thewriting-table at her elbow, and hurled it at him with all her strength. 

Scooter collapsed on the floor like a broken mechanical toy. Tessauttered a wild scream and flung herself upon him. 

Netta gasped hysterically, horrified but still angry. "It serves himright--serves you both right! Now go away!" she said. 

Tessa turned on her knees on the floor. Scooter was feebly kicking inher arms. The missile had struck him on the head and one eye wasterribly injured. She gathered him up to her little narrow chest, and heceased to kick and became quite still. 

Over his lifeless body she looked at her mother with eyes of burningfurious hatred. "You've killed him!" she said, her voice sunk very low. "And I hope--oh, I do hope--some day--someone--will kill you!"

There was that about her at the moment that actually frightened Netta, and it was with undoubted relief that she saw the door open and MajorRalston's loose-knit lounging figure block the entrance. 

"What's all this noise about?" he began, and stopped short. 

Behind him stood another figure, broad, powerful, not overtall. At sightof it, Tessa uttered a hard sob and scrambled to her feet. She stillclasped poor Scooter's dead body to her breast, and his blood was on herface and on the white frock she wore. 

"Uncle St. Bernard! Look! Look!" she said. "She's killed my Scooter!"

Netta also arose at this juncture. "Oh, do take that horrible thingaway!" she said. "If it's dead, so much the better. It was no more thana weasel after all. I hate such pets. "

Major Ralston found himself abruptly though not roughly pushed aside. Bernard Monck swooped down with the action of a practised footballer andtook the furry thing out of Tessa's hold. His eyes were very bright andintensely alert, but he did not seem aware of Tessa's mother. 

"Come with me, darling!" he said to the child. "P'raps I can help. "

He trod upon the carved bronze that had slain Scooter as he turned, andhe left the mark of his heel upon it--the deep impress of an angrygiant. 

The door closed with decision upon himself and the child, and MajorRalston was left alone with Netta. 

She looked at him with a flushed face ready to defy remonstance, but hestooped without speaking and picked up the thing that Bernard had triedto grind to powder, surveyed it with a lifted brow and set it back inits place. 

Netta promptly collapsed upon the sofa. "Oh, it is too bad!" she sobbed. "It really is too bad! Now I suppose you too--are going to be brutal. "

Major Ralston cleared his throat. There was certainly no sympathy in hisaspect, but his manner was wholly lacking in brutality. He was neverbrutal to women, and Netta Ermsted was his guest as well as his patient. 

After a moment he sat down beside her, and there was nothing in theaction to mark it as heroic, or to betray the fact that he yearned tostamp out of the room after Bernard and leave her severely to herhysterics. 

"No good in being upset now, " he remarked. "The thing's done, and cryingwon't undo it. "

"I don't want to undo it!" declared Netta. "I always did detest thehorrible ferrety thing. Tessa couldn't have taken it Home with hereither, so it's just as well it's gone. " She dried her eyes with avindictive gesture, and reached for the cigarettes. Hysterics wereimpossible in this man's presence. He was like a shower of cold water. 

"I shouldn't if I were you, " remarked Major Ralston with the air of aman performing a laborious duty. "You smoke too many of 'em. "

Netta ignored the admonition. "They soothe my nerves, " she said. "May Ihave a light?"

He searched his pockets, and apparently drew a blank. 

Netta frowned in swift irritation. "How stupid! I thought all mencarried matches. "

Major Ralston accepted the reproof in silence. He was like a large dog, gravely presenting his shoulder to the nips of a toy terrier. 

"Well?" said Netta aggressively. 

He looked at her with composure. "Talking about going Home, " he said, "at the risk of appearing inhospitable, I think it is my duty to adviseyou very strongly to go as soon as possible. "

"Indeed!" She looked back with instant hostility. "And why?"

He did not immediately reply. Whether with reason or not, he had thereputation for being slow-witted, in spite of the fact that he was abrilliant chess-player. 

She laughed--a short, unpleasant laugh. She was never quite at her easewith him, notwithstanding his slowness. "Why the devil should I, MajorRalston?"

He shrugged his shoulders with massive deliberation. "Because, " he saidslowly, "there's going to be the devil's own row if this man is hangedfor your husband's murder. We have been warned to that effect. "

She shrugged her shoulders also with infinite daintiness, "Oh, a nativerumpus! That doesn't impress me in the least. I shan't go for that. "

Major Ralston's eyes wandered round the room as if in search ofinspiration. "Mary is going, " he observed. 

Netta laughed again, lightly, flippantly. "Good old Mary! Where is shegoing to?"

His eyes came down upon her suddenly like the flash of a knife. "She hasconsented to go to Bhulwana with the rest, " he said. "But I beg you willnot accompany her there. As Captain Ermsted's widow and--" he spoke asone hewing his way--"the chosen friend of the Rajah, your position inthe State is one of considerable difficulty--possibly even of danger. And I do not propose to allow my wife to take unnecessary risks. Forthat reason I must ask you to go before matters come to a head. You havestayed too long already. "

"Good gracious!" said Netta, opening her eyes wide. "But if Mary'ssacred person is to be safely stowed at Bhulwana, what is to prevent myremaining here if I so choose?"

"Because I don't choose to let you, Mrs. Ermsted, " said Major Ralstonsteadily. 

She gazed at him. "You--don't--choose! You!"

His eyes did battle with hers. Since that slighting allusion to hiswife, he had no consideration left for Netta. "That is so, " he said, inhis heavy fashion. "I have already pointed out that you would bewell-advised on your own account to go--not to mention the child'ssafety. "

"Oh, the child!" There was keenness about the exclamation which almostamounted to actual dislike. "I'm tired to death of having Tessa'swelfare and Tessa's morals rammed down my throat. Why should I make afetish of the child? What is good enough for me is surely good enoughfor her. "

"I am afraid I don't agree with you, " said Major Ralston. 

"You wouldn't, " she rejoined. "You and Mary are quite antediluvian inyour idea. But that doesn't influence me. I am glad to say I am more upto date. If I can't stay here, I shall go to Udalkhand. There's a hotelthere as well as here. "

"Of sorts, " said Major Ralston. "Also Udalkhand is nearer to the seat ofdisturbance. "

"Well, I don't care. " Netta spoke recklessly. "I'm not going to bedictated to. What a mighty scare you're all in! What can you think willhappen even if a few natives do get out of hand?"

"Plenty of things might happen, " he rejoined, getting up. "But that bythe way. If you won't listen to reason I am wasting my time. But--" hespoke with abrupt emphasis--"you will not take Tessa to Udalkhand. "

Netta's eyes gleamed. "I shall take her to Kamtchatka if I choose, " shesaid. 

For the first time a smile crossed Major Ralston's face. He turned tothe door. "And if she chooses, " he said, with malicious satisfaction. 

The door closed upon him, and Netta was left alone. 

She remained motionless for a few moments showing her teeth a little inan answering smile; then with a swift, lissom movement, that would havemade Tommy compare her to a lizard, she rose. 

With a white, determined face she bent over the writing-table andscribbled a hasty note. Her hand shook, but she controlled itresolutely. 

Words flicked rapidly into being under her pen: "I shall be behind thetamarisks to-night. "

CHAPTER IV

THE BROAD ROAD

Bernard Monck never forgot the day of Scooter's death. It was asindelibly fixed in his memory as in that of Tessa. 

The child's wild agony of grief was of so utterly abandoned a nature asto be almost Oriental in its violence. The passionate force of herresentment against her mother also was not easy to cope with though hequelled it eventually. But when that was over, when she had wept herselfexhausted in his arms at last, there followed a period of numbness thatmade him seriously uneasy. 

Mrs. Ralston had gone out before the tragedy had occurred, but MajorRalston presently came to his relief. He stooped over Tessa with a fewkindly words, but when he saw the child's face his own changed somewhat. 

"This won't do, " he said to Bernard, holding the slender wrist. "We mustget her to bed. Where's her _ayah_?"

Tessa's little hand hung limply in his hold. She seemed to behalf-asleep. Yet when Bernard moved to lift her, she roused herself tocling around his neck. 

"Please keep me with you, dear Uncle St. Bernard! Oh, please don't goaway!"

"I won't, sweetheart, " he promised her. 

The _ayah_ was nowhere to be found, but it was doubtful if her presencewould have made much difference, since Tessa would not stir from herfriend's sheltering arms, and wept again weakly even at the doctor'stouch. 

So it was Bernard who carried her to her room, and eventually put her tobed under Major Ralston's directions. The latter's face was very graveover the whole proceeding and he presently fetched something in amedicine-glass and gave it to Bernard to administer. 

Tessa tried to refuse it, but her opposition broke down before Bernard'svery gentle insistence. She would do anything, she told him piteously, if only--if only--he would stay with her. 

So Bernard stayed, sending a message to The Green Bungalow to explainhis absence, which found Mrs. Ralston as well as Stella and brought theformer back in haste. 

Tessa was in a deep sleep by the time she arrived, but, hearing thatStella did not need him, Bernard still maintained his watch, onlypermitting Mrs. Ralston to relieve him while he partook of luncheon withher husband. 

Netta did not appear for the meal to the unspoken satisfaction of themboth. They ate almost in silence, Major Ralston being sunk in a speciesof moody abstraction which Bernard did not disturb until the meal wasover. 

Then at length, ere he rose to go, he deliberately broke into his host'sgloomy reflections. "Will you tell me, " he said courteously, "exactlywhat it is that you fear with regard to the child?"

Major Ralston continued to be abstracted for fully thirty seconds afterthe quiet question; then, as Bernard did not repeat it but merelywaited, he replied to it. 

"There are plenty of things to be feared for a child like that. It's acriminal shame to have kept her out here so long. What I actuallybelieve to be the matter at the present moment, is heart trouble. "

"Ah! I thought so. " Bernard looked across at him with gravecomprehension. "She had a bad shock the other day. "

"Yes; a shock to the whole system. She lives on wires in any case. I amgoing to examine her presently, but I am pretty sure I am right. Whatshe really wants--" Major Ralston stopped himself abruptly, so abruptlythat a twinkle of humour shone momentarily in Bernard's eyes. 

"Don't jam on the brakes on my account!" he protested gently. "I am withyou all the way. What does she really want?"

Major Ralston uttered a gruff laugh. It was practically impossible notto confide in Bernard Monck. "She wants to get right away from thatvicious little termagant of a mother of hers. There's no love betweenthem and never will be, so what's the use of pretending? She wants toget into a wholesome bracing, outdoor atmosphere with someone who knowshow to love her. She'll probably go straight to the bad if shedoesn't--that is, if she lives long enough. "

The humour had died in Bernard's eyes. They shone with a very differentlight as he said, "I have thought the same thing myself. " He paused amoment, then slowly, "Do you think her mother would be persuaded to handher over to me?" he said. 

Ralston's brows went up. "To you! For good and all do you mean?"

"Yes. " In his steady unhurried fashion Bernard made answer. "I have beenthinking of it for some time. As a matter of fact, it was to consult youabout it that I came here to-day. I want it more than ever now. "

Ralston was staring openly. "You'd have your hands full, " he remarked. 

Bernard smiled. "I daresay. But, you see, we're chums. To use your ownexpression I know how to love her. I could make her happy--possibly goodas well. "

Ralston never paid compliments, but after a considerable pause he said, "It would be the best thing that ever happened to the imp. So far as hermother's permission goes, I should say she is cheap enough to be hadalmost without asking. You won't need to use much persuasion in thatdirection. "

"An infernal shame!" said Bernard, the hot light again in his eyes. 

Ralston agreed with him. "All the same, Tessa can be a positive littledemon when she likes. I've seen it, so I know. She has got a good dealof her mother's temperament only with a generous allowance of heartthrown in. "

"Yes, " Bernard said. "And it's the heart that counts. You can dopractically anything with a child like that. "

Ralston got up. "Well, I'm going to have another look at her, and thenI'm due at The Green Bungalow. I can't say what is going to happenthere. You ought to clear out, all of you; but a journey would probablybe fatal to Mrs. Monck's infant just now. I can't advise it. "

"Wherever Stella goes, I go, " said Bernard firmly. 

"Yes, that's understood. " Ralston gave him a keen look. "You're incharge, aren't you? But those who can go, must go, that's certain. Thatscoundrel will be convicted in a day or two. And then--look out forsqualls!"

Bernard's smile was scarcely the smile of the man of peace. "Oh yes, Ishall look out, " he said mildly. "And--incidentally--Tommy is teachingme how to shoot. "

They returned to Tessa who was still sleeping, and Mrs. Ralston gave upher place beside her to Bernard, who settled down with a paper to spendthe afternoon. Major Ralston departed for The Green Bungalow, and thesilence of midday fell upon the place. 

It was still early in the year, but the warmth was as that of a softsummer day in England. The lazy drone of bees hung on the air, andsomewhere among the tamarisks a small, persistent bird, called andcalled perpetually, receiving no reply. 

"A fine example of perseverance, " Bernard murmured to himself. 

He had plenty of things to think about--to worry about also, had it beenhis disposition to worry; but the utter peace that surrounded him madehim drowsy. He nodded uncomfortably for a space, then finally--since heseldom did things by halves--laid aside his paper, leaned back in hischair, and serenely slept. 

Twice during the afternoon Mrs. Ralston tiptoed along the verandah, peeped in upon them, and retired again smiling. On the second occasionshe met her husband on the same errand and he drew her aside, his handthrough her arm. 

"Look here, Mary! I've talked to that little spitfire without muchresult. She talks in a random fashion of going to Udalkhand. What heractual intentions are I don't know. Possibly she doesn't know herself. But one thing is certain. She is not going to be attached to your trainany longer, and I have told her so. "

"Oh, Gerald!" She looked at him in dismay. "How--inhospitable of you!"

"Yes, isn't it?" His hand was holding her arm firmly. "You see, Ichance to value your safety more than my reputation for kindness tooutsiders. You are going to Bhulwana at the end of this week. Come! Youpromised. "

"Yes, I know I did. " She looked at him with distress in her eyes. "I'vewished I hadn't ever since. There is my poor Stella in bad trouble forone thing. She says she will have to change her _ayah_. And there is--"

"She has got Peter--and her brother-in-law. She doesn't want you too, "said her husband. 

"And now there is little Tessa, " proceeded Mrs. Ralston, growing moreand more worried as she proceeded. 

"Yes, there is Tessa, " he agreed. "You can offer to take her to Bhulwanawith you if you like. But not her mother as well. That is understood. Itwon't break her heart to part with her, I fancy. As for you, my dear, "he gave her a whimsical look, "the sooner you are gone the better Ishall be pleased. Lady Harriet and the Burton contingent left to-day. "

"I hate going!" declared Mrs. Ralston almost tearfully. "I shouldn'thave promised if I could have foreseen all that was going to happen. "

He squeezed her arm. "All the same--you promised. So don't be silly!"

She turned suddenly and clung to him. 

"Gerald! I want to stay with you. Let me stay! I can't bear the thoughtof you alone and in danger. "

He stared for a moment in astonishment. Demonstrations of affection werealmost unknown between them. Then, with a shamefaced gesture, he bentand kissed her. 

"What a silly old woman!" he said. 

That ended the discussion and she knew that her plea had been refused. But the fashion of its refusal brought the warm colour to her fadedface, and she was even near to laughing in the midst of her woe. Howdear of Gerald to put it like that! She did not feel that she had everfully realized his love for her until that moment. 

Seeing that her presence in her own bungalow was not needed just then, she betook herself once more to Stella, and again the afternoon silencefell like a spell of enchantment. That there could be any element ofunrest anywhere within that charmed region seemed a thing impossible. The peace of Eden brooded everywhere. 

The evening was drawing on ere Bernard slowly emerged from his sereneslumber and looked at the child beside him. Some invisible influence--orperhaps some bond of sympathy between them--had awakened her at the samemoment, for her eyes were fixed upon him. They shone intensely, mysteriously blue in the subdued light, wistful, searching eyes, whollyunlike the eyes of a child. 

Her hand came out to his. "Have you been here all the time, dear?" shesaid. 

She seemed to be still half-wrapped in the veil of sleep. He leaned toher, holding the little hand up against his cheek. 

"Almost, my princess, " he said. 

She nestled to him snuggling her fair head into his shoulder. "I've beendreaming, " she whispered. 

"Have you, my darling?" He gathered her close with a compassionatetenderness for the frailty of the little throbbing body he held. 

Tessa's arms crept round his neck. "I dreamt, " she said, "that you andI, Uncle St. Bernard, were walking in a great big city, and there was achurch with a golden spire. There were a lot of steps up to it--andScooter--" a sob rose in her throat and was swiftly suppressed--"wassunning himself on the top. And I tried to run up the steps and catchhim, but there were always more and more and more steps, and I couldn'tget any nearer. And I cried at last, I was so tired and disappointed. And then--" the bony arms tightened--"you came up behind me, and took myhand and said, 'Why don't you kneel down and pray? It's much thequickest way. ' And so I did, " said Tessa simply. "And all of a suddenthe steps were gone, and you and I went in together. I tried to pick upScooter, but he ran away, and I didn't mind 'cos I knew he was safe. Iwas so happy, so very happy. I didn't want to wake again. " A dolefulnote crept into Tessa's voice; she swallowed another sob. 

Bernard lifted her bodily from the bed to his arms. "Don't fret, littlesweetheart! I'm here, " he said. 

She lifted her face to his, very wet and piteous. "Uncle St. Bernard, I've been praying and praying--ever such a lot since my birthday-party. You said I might, didn't you? But God hasn't taken any notice. "

He held her close. "What have you been praying for, my darling?" hesaid. 

"I do--so--want to be your little girl, " answered Tessa with a break inher voice. "I never really prayed for anything before--only the thingsAunt Mary made me say--and they weren't what I wanted. But I do wantthis. And I believe I'd get quite good if I was your little girl. I toldGod so, but I don't think He cared. "

"Yes. He did care, darling. " Very softly Bernard reassured her. "Don'tyou think that ever! He is going to answer that prayer of yours--prettysoon now. "

"Oh, is He?" said Tessa, brightening. "How do you know? Is He going tosay Yes?"

"I think so. " Bernard's voice and touch were alike motherly. "But youmust be patient a little longer, my princess of the bluebell. It isn'tgood for us to have things straight off when we want them. "

"You do want me?" insinuated Tessa, squeezing his neck very hard. 

"Yes. I want you very much, " he said. 

"I love you, " said Tessa with passionate warmth, "better--yes, betternow than even Uncle Everard. And I didn't think I ever could do that. "

"God bless you, little one!" he said. 

Later, when Major Ralston had seen her again, they had anotherconference. The doctor's suspicions were fully justified. Tessa wouldneed the utmost care. 

"She shall have it, " Bernard said. "But--I can't leave Stella now. Ishall see my way clearer presently. "

"Quite so, " Ralston agreed. "My wife shall look after the child atBhulwana. It will keep her quiet. " He gave Bernard a shrewd look. "Perhaps you--and Mrs. Monck also--will be on your way Home before thehot weather, " he said. "In that case she could go with you. "

Bernard was silent. It was impossible to look forward. One thing wascertain. He could not desert Stella. 

Ralston passed on. Being reticent himself he respected a man who couldkeep his own counsel. 

"What about Mrs. Ermsted?" he said. "When will you see her?"

"To-night, " said Bernard, setting his jaw. 

Ralston smiled briefly. That look recalled his brother. "No time likethe present, " he said. 

But the time for consultation with Netta Ermsted upon the future of herchild was already past. When Bernard, very firm and purposeful, walkeddown again after dinner that night, Ralston met him with a wryexpression and put a crumpled note into his hand. 

"Mrs. Ermsted has apparently divined your benevolent intentions, " hesaid. 

Bernard read in silence, with meeting brows. 

DEAR MARY:

This is to wish you and all kind friends good-bye. So that there may beno misunderstanding on the part of our charitable gossips, pray tellthem at once that I have finally chosen the broad road as it reallysuits me best. As for Tessa--I bequeath her and her little morals to thefirst busybody who cares to apply for them. Perhaps the worthy FatherMonck would like to acquire virtue in this fashion. I find the task onlybreeds vice in me. Many thanks for your laborious and, I fear, whollyfutile attempts to keep me in the much too narrow way. 

Yours, NETTA. 

Bernard looked up from the note with such fiery eyes that Ralston whowas on the verge of a scathing remark himself had to stop out of sheercuriosity to see what he would say. 

"A damnably cruel and heartless woman!" said Bernard with deliberation. 

Ralston's smile expressed what for him was warm approval. "She's nothingbut an animal, " he said. 

Bernard took him up short. "You wrong the animals, " he said. "The veryleast of them love their young. "

Ralston shrugged his shoulders. "All the better for Tessa anyhow. "

Bernard's eyes softened very suddenly. He crumpled the note into a balland tossed it from him. "Yes, " he said quietly. "God helping me, itshall be all the better for her. "

CHAPTER V

THE DARK NIGHT

An owl hooted across the compound, and a paraquet disturbed by theoutcry uttered a shrill, indignant protest. An immense moon hungsuspended as it were in mid-heaven, making all things intense with itsradiance. It was the hour before the dawn. 

Stella stood at her window, gazing forth and numbly marvelling at thesplendour. As of old, it struck her like a weird fantasy--this Indianenchantment--poignant, passionate, holding more of anguish than ofecstasy, yet deeply magnetic, deeply alluring, as a magic potion which, once tasted, must enchain the senses for ever. 

The extravagance of that world of dreadful black and dazzling silver, the stillness that was yet indescribably electric, the unreality thatwas allegorically real, she felt it all as a vague accompaniment to theheartache that never left her--the scornful mockery of the goddess shehad refused to worship. 

There were even times when the very atmosphere seemed to her chargedwith hostility--a terrible overwhelming antagonism that closed abouther in a narrowing ring which serpent-wise constricted her ever more andmore, from which she could never hope to escape. For--still the old ideahaunted her--she was a trespasser upon forbidden ground. Once she hadbeen cast forth. But she had dared to return, braving the flaming sword. And now--and now--it barred her in, cutting off her escape. 

For she was as much a prisoner as if iron walls surrounded her. Sentencehad gone forth against her. She would not be cast forth again until shehad paid the uttermost farthing, endured the ultimate torture. Thenonly--childless and desolate and broken--would she be turned adrift inthe desert, to return no more for ever. 

The ghastly glamour of the night attracted and repelled her like theswing of a mighty pendulum. She was trying to pray--that much hadBernard taught her--but her prayer only ran blind and futile through herbrain. The hour should have been sacred, but it was marred anddesecrated by the stark glare of that nightmare moon. She was worn outwith long and anxious watching, and she had almost ceased to look forcomfort, so heavy were the clouds that menaced her. 

The thought of Everard was ever with her, strive as she might to driveit out. At such moments as these she yearned for him with a sick anddesperate longing--his strength, his tenderness, his understanding. He, and he alone, would have known how to comfort her now with her babydying before her eyes. He would have held her up through her darkesthours. His arm would have borne her forward however terrible the path. 

She had Bernard and she had Tommy, each keen and ready in her service. She sometimes thought that but for Bernard she would have beenoverwhelmed long since. But he could not fill the void within her. Hecould not even touch the aching longing that gnawed so perpetually ather heart. That was a pain she would have to endure in silence all therest of her life. She did not think she would ever see Everard again. Though only a few miles lay between them at present he might have beenalready a world away. She was sure he would not come back to her unlessshe summoned him. The manner of his going, though he had taken no leaveof her, had been somehow final. And she could not call him back even ifshe would. He had deceived her cruelly, of set intention, and she couldnever trust him again. The memory of Ralph Dacre tainted all herthoughts of him. He had sworn he had not killed him. Perhapsnot--perhaps not! Yet was the conviction ever with her that he had senthim to his death, had intended him to die. 

She had given up reasoning the matter. It was beyond her. She was toohopelessly plunged in darkness. Tommy with all his staunchness could notlift that overwhelming cloud. And Bernard? She did not know what Bernardthought save that he had once reminded her that a man should beregarded as innocent unless he could be proved guilty. 

It was common talk now that Everard's Indian career was ended. It wasonly the trial at Khanmulla that had delayed the sending in of hispapers. He was as much a broken man, however hotly Tommy contested thepoint, as if he had been condemned by a court-martial. Surely, had hebeen truly innocent he would have demanded a court-martial andvindicated himself. But he had suffered his honour to go down insilence. What more damning evidence could be supplied than this?

The dumb sympathy of Peter's eyes kept the torturing thought constantlybefore her. She felt sure that Peter believed him guilty of Dacre'smurder though it was more than possible that in his heart he condonedthe offence. Perhaps he even admired him for it, she reflectedshudderingly. But his devotion to her, as always, was uppermost. Hisdog-like fidelity surrounded her with unfailing service. The _ayah_ hadgone, and he had slipped into her place as naturally as if he had alwaysoccupied it. Even now, while Stella stood at her window gazing forthinto the garish moonlight, was he softly padding to and fro in the roomadjoining hers, hushing the poor little wailing infant to sleep. Shecould trust him implicitly, she knew, even in moments of crisis. Hewould gladly work himself to death in her service. But with Mrs. Ralston gone to Bhulwana, she knew she must have further help. Thestrain was incessant, and Major Ralston insisted that she must have awoman with her. 

All the ladies of the station, save herself, had gone. She knew vaguelythat some sort of disturbance was expected at Khanmulla, and that itmight spread to Kurrumpore. But her baby was too ill for travel; she hadpractically forced this truth from Major Ralston, and so she had nochoice but to remain. She knew very well at the heart of her that itwould not be for long. 

No thought of personal danger troubled her. Sinister though the nightmight seem to her stretched nerves, yet no sense of individual perilpenetrated the weary bewilderment of her brain. She was tired out inmind and body, and had yielded to Peter's persuasion to take a rest. Butthe weird cry of the night-bird had drawn her to the window and theglittering splendour of the night had held her there. She turned from itat last with a long, long sigh, and lay down just as she was. She alwaysheld herself ready for a call at any time. Those strange seizures cameso suddenly and were becoming increasingly violent. It was many dayssince she had permitted herself to sleep soundly. 

She lay for awhile wide-eyed, almost painfully conscious, listening toPeter's muffled movements in the other room. The baby had ceased to cry, but he was still prowling to and fro, tireless and patient, with anendurance that was almost superhuman. 

She had done the same thing a little earlier till her limbs had givenway beneath her. In the daytime Bernard helped her, but she and Petershared the nights. 

Her senses became at last a little blurred. The night seemed to havespread over half a lifetime--a practically endless vista of suffering. The soft footfall in the other room made her think of the Sentry at theGate, that Sentry with the flaming sword who never slept. It beat with apitiless thudding upon her brain.... 

Later, it grew intermittent, fitful, as if at each turn the Sentrypaused. It always went on again, or so she thought. And she was sure shewas not deeply sleeping, or that haunting cry of an owl had notpenetrated her consciousness so frequently. 

Once, oddly, there came to her--perhaps it was a dream--a sound as ofvoices whispering together. She turned in her sleep and tried to listen, but her senses were fogged, benumbed. She could not at the moment dragherself free from the stupor of weariness that held her. But she wassure of Peter, quite sure that he would call her if any emergency arose. And there was no one with whom he could be whispering. So she was sureit must be a dream. Imperceptibly she sank still deeper into slumber andforgot.... 

It was several hours later that Tommy, returned from early parade, flunghimself impetuously down at the table opposite Bernard with a brief, "Now for it!"

Bernard was reading a letter, and Tommy's eyes fastened upon it as hiswere lifted. 

"What's that? A letter from Everard?" he asked unceremoniously. 

"Yes. He has written to tell me definitely that he has sent in hisresignation--and it has been accepted. " Bernard's reply was whollycourteous, the boy's bluntness notwithstanding. He had a respect forTommy. 

"Oh, damn!" said Tommy with fervor. "What is he going to do now?"

"He doesn't tell me that. " Bernard folded the letter and put it in hispocket. "What's your news?" he inquired. 

Tommy marked the action with somewhat jealous eyes. He had been aware ofEverard's intention for some time. It had been more or less inevitable. But he wished he had written to him also. There were several things hewould have liked to know. 

He looked at Bernard rather blankly, ignoring his question. "What thedevil is he going to do?" he said. "Dropout?"

Bernard's candid eyes met his. "Honestly I don't know, " he said. "Perhaps he is just waiting for orders. "

"Will he come back here?" questioned Tommy. 

Bernard shook his head. "No. I'm pretty sure he won't. Now tell me yournews!"

"Oh, it's nothing!" said Tommy impatiently. "Nothing, I mean, comparedto his clearing out. The trial is over and the man is condemned. He isto be executed next week. It'll mean a shine of some sort--nothing verygreat, I am afraid. "

"That all?" said Bernard, with a smile. 

"No, not quite all. There was some secret information given which it issupposed was rather damaging to the Rajah, for he has taken to hisheels. No one knows where he is, or at least no one admits he does. Youknow these Oriental chaps. They can cover the scent of a rotten herring. He'll probably never turn up again. The place is too hot to hold him. Hecan finish his rotting in another corner of the Empire; and I wish NettaErmsted joy of her bargain!" ended Tommy with vindictive triumph. 

"My good fellow!" protested Bernard. 

Tommy uttered a reckless laugh. "You know it as well as I do. She wasdone for from the moment he taught her the opium habit. There's noescape from that, and the devil knew it. I say, what a mercy it will bewhen you can get Tessa away to England. "

"And Stella too, " said Bernard, turning to the subject with relief. 

"You won't do that, " said Tommy quickly. 

"How do you know that?" Bernard's look had something of a piercingquality. 

But Tommy eluded all search. "I do know. I can't tell you how. But I'mcertain--dead certain--that Stella won't go back to England with youthis spring. "

"You're something of a prophet, Tommy, " remarked Bernard, after anattentive pause. 

"It's not my only accomplishment, " rejoined Tommy modestly. "I'm severalthings besides that. I've got some brains too--just a few. Funny, isn'tit? Ah, here is Stella! Come and break your fast, old girl! What's thelatest?"

He went to meet her and drew her to the table. She smiled in her wan, rather abstracted way at Bernard whom she had seen before. 

"Oh, don't get up!" she said. "I only came for a glimpse of you both. Ihad _tiffin_ in my room. Peter saw to that. Baby is very weak thismorning, and I thought perhaps, Tommy dear, when, you go back you wouldsee Major Ralston for me and ask him to come up soon. " She sat down withan involuntary gesture of weariness. 

"Have you slept at all?" Bernard asked her gently. 

"Oh yes, thank you. I had three hours of undisturbed rest. Peter wassplendid. "

"You must have another _ayah, _" Bernard said. "It isn't fit for you togo on in this way. "

"No. " She spoke with the docility of exhaustion. "Peter is seeing to it. He always sees to everything. He knows a woman in the bazaar who woulddo--an elderly woman--I think he said she is the grandmother of Hafizwho sells trinkets. You know Hafiz, I expect? I don't like him, but heis supposed to be respectable, and Peter is prepared to vouch for thewoman's respectability. Only she has been terribly disfigured by anaccident, burnt I think he said, and she wears a veil. I told him thatdidn't matter. Baby is too ill to notice, and he evidently wants me tohave her. He says she has been used to English children, and is a goodnurse. That is what matters chiefly, so I have told him to engage her. "

"I am very glad to hear it, " Bernard said. 

"Yes, I think it will be a relief. Those screaming fits are soterrible. " Stella checked a sharp shudder. "Peter would not recommendher if he did not personally know her to be trustworthy, " she addedquietly. 

"No. Peter's safe enough, " said Tommy. He was bolting his meal withgreat expedition. "Is the kiddie worse, Stella?"

She looked at him with that in her tired eyes that went straight to hisheart. "He is a little worse every day, " she said. 

Tommy swore into his cup and asked no further. 

A few moments later he got up, gave her a brief kiss, and departed. 

Stella sat on with her chin in her hand, every line of her expressingthe weariness of the hopeless watcher. She looked crushed, as if aburden she could hardly support had been laid upon her. 

Bernard looked at her once or twice without speaking. Finally he toorose, went round to her, knelt beside her, put his arm about her. 

Her face quivered a little. "I've got--to keep strong, " she said, in thetone of one who had often said the same thing in solitude. 

"I know, " he said. "And so you will. There's special strength given forsuch times as these. It won't fail you now. "

She put her hand into his. "Thank you, " she said. And then, with aneffort, "Do you know, Bernard, I tried--I really tried--to pray in thenight before I lay down. But--there was something so wicked about it--Isimply couldn't. "

"One can't always, " he said. 

"Oh, have you found that too?" she asked. 

He smiled at the question. "Of course I have. So has everybody. We'reonly children, Stella. God knows that. He doesn't expect of us more thanwe can manage. Prayer is only one of the means we have of reaching Him. It can't be used always. There are some people who haven't time forprayer even, and yet they may be very near to God. In times of stresslike yours one is often much nearer than one realizes. You will findthat out quite suddenly one of these days, find that through all yourdesert journeying, He has been guiding you, protecting you, surroundingyou with the most loving care. And--because the night was dark--younever knew it. "

"The night is certainly very dark, " Stella said with a tremulous smile. "If it weren't for you I don't think I could ever get through. "

"Oh, don't say that!" he said. "If it weren't me it would be someoneelse--or possibly a closer vision of Himself. There is alwayssomething--something to which later you will look back and say, 'Thatwas His lamp in the desert, showing the way. ' Don't fret if you can'tpray! I can pray for you. You just keep on being brave and patient! Heunderstands. "

Stella's fingers pressed upon his. "You are good to me, Bernard, " shesaid. "I shall think of what you say--the next time I am alone in thenight. "

His arm held her sustainingly. "And if you're very desolate, child, comeand call me!" he said. "I'm always at hand, always glad to serve you. "

She smiled--a difficult smile. "I shall need you more--afterwards, " shesaid under her breath. And then, as if words had suddenly becomeimpossible to her, she leaned against him and kissed him. 

He gathered her up close, as if she had been a weary child. "God blessyou, my dear!" he said. 

CHAPTER VI

THE FIRST GLIMMER

It was from the Colonel himself that Stella heard of Everard'sretirement. 

He walked back from the Mess that night with Tommy and asked to see herfor a few minutes alone. He was always kinder to her in his wife'sabsence. 

She was busy installing the new _ayah_ whom Peter with the air of amagician who has but to wave his wand had presented to her half an hourbefore. The woman was old and bent and closely veiled--so closely thatStella strongly suspected her disfigurement to be of a very ghastlynature, but her low voice and capable manner inspired her withinstinctive confidence. She realized with relief from the very outsetthat her faithful Peter had not made a mistake. She was sure that thenew-comer had nursed sickly English children before. She went to theColonel, leaving the strange woman in charge of her baby and Peterhovering reassuringly in the background. 

His first greeting of her had a touch of diffidence, but when he sawthe weary suffering of her eyes this was swallowed up in pity. He tookher hands and held them. 

"My poor girl!" he said. 

She smiled at him. Pity from an outsider did not penetrate to the depthsof her. "Thank you for coming, " she said. 

He coughed and cleared his throat. "I hope it isn't an intrusion, " hesaid. 

"But of course not!" she made answer. "How could it be? Won't you sitdown?"

He led her to a chair; but he did not sit down himself. He stood beforeher with something of the air of a man making a confession. 

"Mrs. Monck, " he said, "I think I ought to tell you that it was by myadvice that your husband resigned his commission. "

Her brows drew together a little as if at a momentary dart of pain. "Hashe resigned it?" she said. 

"Yes. Didn't he tell you?" He frowned. "Haven't you seen him? Don't youknow where he is?"

She shook her head. "I can only think of my baby just now, " she said. 

He swung round abruptly upon his heel and paced the room. "Oh yes, ofcourse. I know that. Ralston told me. I am very sorry for you, Mrs. Monck, --very, very sorry. "

"Thank you, " she said. 

He continued to tramp to and fro. "You haven't much to thank me for. Ihad to think of the Regiment; but I considered the step very carefullybefore I took it. He had rendered invaluable service--especially overthis Khanmulla trial. He would have been decorated for it if--" hepulled up with a jerk--"if things had been different. I know SirReginald Bassett thought very highly of him, was prepared to give him anappointment on his personal staff. And no doubt eventually he would haveclimbed to the top of the tree. But--this affair has destroyed him. " Hepaused a moment, but he did not look at her. "He has had every chance, "he said then. "I kept an open mind. I wouldn't condemn him unhearduntil--well until he refused flatly to speak on his own behalf. I wentover to Khanmulla and talked to him--talked half the night. I couldn'tmove him. And if a man won't take the trouble to defend his own honour, it isn't worth--that!" He snapped his fingers with a bitter gesture;then abruptly wheeled and came back to her. "I didn't come here todistress you, " he said, looking down at her again. "I know your cup isfull already. And it's a thankless task to persuade any woman that herhusband is unworthy of her, besides being an impertinence. But what Imust say to you is this. There is nothing left to wait for, and it wouldbe sheer madness to stay on any longer. The Rajah has been deeplyincriminated and is in hiding. The Government will of course take overthe direction of affairs, but there is certain--absolutely certain--tobe a disturbance when Ermsted's murderer is executed. I hope an adequateforce will soon be at our disposal to cope with it, but it has not yetbeen provided. Therefore I cannot possibly permit you to stay here anylonger. As Monck's wife, it is more than likely that you might be madean object of vengeance. I can't risk it. You and the child must go. Iwill send an escort in the morning. "

He stopped at last, partly for lack of breath, partly because from herunmoved expression he fancied that she was not taking in his warningwords. She sat looking straight before her as one rapt in reverie. Itwas almost as though she had forgotten him, suffered some more absorbingmatter to crowd him out of her thoughts. 

"You do follow me?" he questioned at length as she did not speak. 

She lifted her eyes to him again though he felt it was with a greateffort. "Oh, yes, " she said. "I quite understand you, Colonel Mansfield. And--I am quite grateful to you. But I am not staying here for myhusband's sake at all. I--do not suppose we shall ever see each otherany more. All that is over. "

He started. "What! You have given him up?" he said, uttering the wordsalmost involuntarily, so quiet was she in her despair. 

She bent her head. "Yes, I have given him up. I do not know where heis--or anything about him. I am staying here now--I must stay herenow--for my baby's sake. He is too ill to bear a journey. "

She lifted her face again with the words, and in its pale resolution hesaw that he would spend himself upon further argument in vain. Moreover, he was for the moment too staggered by the low-spoken information toconcentrate his attention upon persuasion. Her utter quietness silencedhim. 

He stood for a moment or two looking down at her, then abruptly bent andtook her hand. "You're a very brave woman, " he said, a quick touch offeeling in his voice. "You've had a fiendish time of it out here fromstart to finish. It'll be a good thing for you when you can get out ofit and go Home. You're young; you'll start again. "

It was clumsy consolation, but his hand-grip was fatherly. She smiledagain at him, and got up. 

"Thank you very much, Colonel. You have always been kind. Please don'tbother about me any more. I am really not a bit afraid. I have too muchto think about. And really I don't think I am important enough to be inany real danger. You will excuse me now, won't you? I have just got anew _ayah_, and they always need superintending. Perhaps you will joinmy brother-in-law. I know he will be delighted. "

She extricated herself with a gentle aloofness more difficult to combatthan any open opposition, and he went away to express himself morestrongly to Bernard Monck from whom he was sure at least of receivingsympathy if not support. 

Stella returned to her baby with a stunned feeling of having beenstruck, and yet without consciousness of pain. Perhaps she had sufferedso much that her faculties were getting numbed. She knew that theColonel was surprised that his news concerning Everard had affected herso little. She was in a fashion surprised herself. Was she then soabsorbed that she had no room for him in her thoughts? And yet only theprevious night how she had yearned for him!

It was the end of everything for him--the end of his ambition, of hiscareer, of all his cherished hopes. He was a broken man and he woulddrop out as other men had dropped out. His love for her had been hisruin. And yet her brain seemed incapable of grasping the meaning of thecatastrophe. The bearing of her burden occupied the whole of herstrength. 

The rest of the Colonel's news scarcely touched her at all, save thatthe thought flashed upon her once that if the danger were indeed sogreat Everard would certainly come to her. That sent a strange glowthrough her that died as swiftly as it was born. She did not reallybelieve in the danger, and Everard was probably far away already. 

She went back to her baby and the _ayah_, Hanani, over whom Peter wasmounting guard with a queer mixture of patronage and respect. For thoughhe had procured the woman and obviously thought highly of her, heseemed to think that none but himself could be regarded as fullyqualified to have the care of his _mem-sahib's_ fondly cherished _baba_. 

Stella heard him giving some low-toned directions as she entered, andshe wondered if the new _ayah_ would resent his lordly attitude. But theveiled head bent over the child expressed nothing but complete docility. She answered Peter in few words, but with the utmost meekness. 

Her quietness was a great relief to Stella. There was a self-relianceabout it that gave her confidence. And presently, tenderly urged byPeter, she went to the adjoining room to rest, on the understanding thatshe should be called immediately if occasion arose. And that was thefirst night of many that she passed in undisturbed repose. 

In the early morning, entering, she found Peter in sole possession andvery triumphant. They had divided the night, he said, and Hanani hadgone to rest in her turn. All had gone well. He had slept on thethreshold and knew. And now his _mem-sahib_ would sleep through everynight and have no fear. 

She smiled at his solicitude though it touched her almost to tears, andgathered in silence to her breast the little frail body that every daynow seemed to feel lighter and smaller. It would not be for verylong--their planning and contriving. Very soon now she would befree--quite free--to sleep as long as she would. But her tired heartwarmed to Peter and to that silent _ayah_ whom he had enlisted in herservice. Through the dark night of her grief the love of her friendsshone with a radiance that penetrated even the deepest shadows. Was thisthe lamp in the desert of which Bernard had spoken so confidently--theLamp that God had lighted to guide her halting feet? Was it by this thatshe would come at last into the Presence of God Himself, and realizethat the wanderers in the wilderness are ever His especial care?

Certainly, as Peter had intimated, she knew her baby to be safe in theirjoint charge. As the days slipped by, it seemed to her that Peter hadimbued the _ayah_ with something of his own devotion, for, though it wasproffered almost silently, she was aware of it at every turn. At anyother time her sympathy for the woman would have fired her interest andled her to attempt to draw her confidence. But the slender thread oflife they guarded, though it bound them with a tie that was almostfriendship, seemed so to fill their minds that they never spoke ofanything else. Stella knew that Hanani loved her and considered her inevery way, but she gave Peter most of the credit for it, Peter and thelittle dying baby she rocked so constantly against her heart. She knewthat many an _ayah_ would lay down her life for her charge. Peter hadchosen well. 

Later--when this time of waiting and watching was over, when she wasleft childless and alone--she would try to find out something of thewoman's history, help her if she could, reward her certainly. It wasevident that she was growing old. She had the stoop and the deliberationof age. Probably, she would not have obtained an _ayah's_ post under anyother circumstances. But, notwithstanding these drawbacks, she had awonderful endurance, and she was never startled or at a loss. Stellaoften told herself that she would not have exchanged her for anotherwoman--even a white woman--out of the whole of India had the chanceoffered. Hanani, grave, silent, capable, met every need. 

CHAPTER VII

THE FIRST VICTIM

An ominous calm prevailed at Khanmulla during the week that followed theconviction of Ermsted's murderer and the disappearance of the Rajah. AllMarkestan seemed to be waiting with bated breath. But, save for thedeparture of the women from Kurrumpore, no sign was given by theGovernment of any expectation of a disturbance. The law was to take itscourse, and no official note had been made of the absence of the Rajah. He had always been sudden in his movements. 

Everything went as usual at Kurrumpore, and no one's nerves seemed tofeel any strain. Even Tommy betrayed no hint of irritation. A newmanliness had come upon Tommy of late. He was keeping himself in handwith a steadiness which even Bertie Oakes could not ruffle and whichMajor Ralston openly approved. He had always known that Tommy had thestuff for great things in him. 

A species of bickering friendship had sprung up between them, foundedupon their tacit belief in the honour of a man who had failed. Theyseldom mentioned his name, but the bond of sympathy remained, oddlytenacious and unassailable. Tommy strongly suspected, moreover, thatRalston knew Everard's whereabouts, and of this even Bernard wasignorant at that time. Ralston never boasted his knowledge, but theconviction had somehow taken hold of Tommy, and for this reason also hesought the surgeon's company as he had certainly never sought it before. 

Ralston on his part was kind to the boy partly because he liked him andadmired his staunchness, and partly because his wife's unwillingdeparture had left him lonely. He and Major Burton for some reason werenot so friendly as of yore, and they no longer spent their evenings instrict seclusion with the chess-board. He took to walking back from theMess with Tommy, and encouraged the latter to drop in at his bungalowfor a smoke whenever he felt inclined. It was but a short distance fromThe Green Bungalow, and, as he was wont to remark, it was one degreemore cheerful for which consideration Tommy was profoundly grateful. Notwithstanding Bernard's kind and wholesome presence, there were timeswhen the atmosphere of The Green Bungalow was almost more than he couldbear. He was powerless to help, and the long drawn-out misery weighedupon him unendurably. He infinitely preferred smoking a silent pipe inRalston's company or messing about with him in his little surgery as hewas sometimes permitted to do. 

On the evening before the day fixed for the execution at Khanmulla, theywere engaged in this fashion when the _khitmutgar_ entered with the newsthat a _sahib_ desired to speak to him. 

"Oh, bother!" said Ralston crossly. "Who is it? Don't you know?"

The man hesitated, and it occurred to Tommy instantly that there was ahint of mystery in his manner. The _sahib_ had ridden through the junglefrom Khanmulla, he said. He gave no name. 

"Confounded fool!" said Ralston. "No one but a born lunatic would do athing like that. Go and see what he wants like a good chap, Tommy! I'mbusy. "

Tommy rose with alacrity. His curiosity was aroused. "Perhaps it'sMonck, " he said. 

"More likely Barnes, " said Ralston. "Only I shouldn't have thought he'dbe such a fool. Keep your eyes skinned!" he added, as Tommy went to thedoor. "Don't get shot or stuck by anybody! If I'm really wanted, I'llcome. "

Tommy grinned at the caution and departed. He had ceased to anticipateany serious trouble in the State, and nothing really exciting ever camehis way. 

He went through the bungalow to the dining-room still half expecting tofind his brother-in-law awaiting him. But the moment he entered, he hada shock. A man in a rough tweed coat was sitting at the table in an odd, hunched attitude, almost as if he had fallen into the chair thatsupported him. 

He turned his head a little at Tommy's entrance, but not so that thelight revealed his face. "Hullo!" he said. "That you, Ralston? I've gota bullet in my left shoulder. Do you mind getting it out?"

Tommy stopped dead. He felt as if his heart stopped also. Heknew--surely he knew--that voice! But it was not that of Everard orBarnes, or of any one he had ever expected to meet again on earth. 

"What--what--" he gasped feebly, and went backwards against thedoor-post. "Am I drunk?" he questioned with himself. 

The man in the chair turned more fully. "Why, it's Tommy!" he said. 

The light smote full upon him now throwing up every detail of acountenance which, though handsome, had begun to show unmistakable signsof coarse and intemperate habits. He laughed as he met the boy's shockedeyes, but the laugh caught in his throat and turned to a strangled oath. Then he began to cough. 

"Oh--my God!" said Tommy. 

He turned then, horror urging him, and tore back to Ralston, as onepursued by devils. He burst in upon him headlong. 

"For heaven's sake, come! That fellow--it's--it's----"

"Who?" said Ralston sharply. 

"I don't know!" panted back Tommy. "I'm mad, I think. But come--forgoodness' sake--before he bleeds to death!"

Ralston came with a velocity which exceeded even Tommy's wild rush. Tommy marvelled at it later. He had not thought the phlegmatic andslow-moving Ralston had it in him. He himself was left well behind, andwhen he re-entered the dining-room Ralston was already bending over thehuddled figure that sprawled across the table. 

"Come and lend a hand!" he ordered. "We must get him on the floor. Poordevil! He's got it pretty straight. "

He had not seen the stricken man's face. He was too concerned with thewound to worry about any minor details for the moment. 

Tommy helped him to the best of his ability, but he was trembling somuch that in a second Ralston swooped scathingly upon his weakness. 

"Steady man! Pull yourself together! What on earth's the matter? Neverseen a little blood before? If you faint, I'll--I'll kick you! There!"

Tommy pulled himself together forthwith. He had never before submittedto being bullied by Ralston; but he submitted then, for speech wasbeyond him. They lowered the big frame between them, and at Ralston'scommand he supported it while the doctor made a swift examination of theinjury. 

Then, while this was in progress, the wounded man recovered his sensesand forced a few husky words. "Hullo, --Ralston! Have they done me in?"

Ralston's eyes went to his face for the first time, shot a momentaryglance at Tommy, and returned to the matter in hand. 

"Don't talk!" he said. 

A few seconds later he got to his feet. "Keep him just as he is! I mustgo and fetch something. Don't let him speak!"

He was gone with the words, and Tommy, still feeling bewildered andrather sick, knelt in silence and waited for his return. 

But almost immediately the husky voice spoke again. "Tommy--that you?"

Tommy felt himself begin to tremble again and put forth all his strengthto keep himself in hand. "Don't talk!" he said gruffly. 

"I've--got to talk. " The words came, forced by angry obstinacy. "It'sno--damnation--good. I'm done for--beaten on the straight. And that hellhound Monck--"

"Damn you! Be quiet!" said Tommy in a furious undertone. 

"I won't be quiet. I'll have--my turn--such as it is. Where's Stella?Fetch Stella! I've a right to that anyway. She is--my lawful wife!"

"I can't fetch her, " said Tommy. 

"All right then. You can tell her--from me--that she's been duped--as Iwas. She's mine--not his. He came--with that cock-and-bull storyabout--the other woman. But she was dead--I've found out since. She wasdead--and he knew it. He faked up the tale--to suit himself. He wantedher--the damn skunk--wanted her--and cheated--cheated--to get her. "

He stopped, checked by a terrible gurgle in the throat. Tommy, whitewith passion, broke fiercely into his gasping silence. 

"It's a damned lie! Monck is a white man! He never did--a thing likethat!"

And then he too stopped in sheer horror at the devilish hatred thatgleamed in the rolling, bloodshot eyes. 

A few dreadful seconds passed. Then Ralph Dacre gathered his ebbing lifein one last great effort of speech. "She is my wife. I hold the proof. If it hadn't been for this--I'd have taken her from him--to-night. Heruined me--and he robbed me. But I--I'll ruin him now. It's my turn. Heis not--her husband, and she--she'll scorn him after this--if I knowher. Consoled herself precious soon. Yes, women are like that. But theydon't forgive so easily. And she--is not--the forgiving sort--anyway. She'll never forgive him for tricking her--the hound! She'll neverforget that the child--her child--is a bastard. And--the Regiment--won'tforget either. He's down--and out. "

He ceased to speak. Tommy's hands were clenched. If the man had been onhis feet, he would have struck him on the mouth. As it was, he couldonly kneel in impotence and listen to the amazing utterance that fellfrom the gasping lips. 

He felt stunned into passivity. His anger had strangely sunk away, though he regarded the man he supported with such an intensity ofloathing that he marvelled at himself for continuing to endure thecontact. The astounding revelation had struck him like a blow betweenthe eyes. He felt numb, almost incapable of thought. 

He heard Ralston returning and wondered what he could have been doing inthat interminable interval. Then, reluctant but horribly fascinated, hislook went back to the upturned, dreadful face. The malignancy had goneout of it. The eyes rolled no longer, but gazed with a great fixity atsomething that seemed to be infinitely far away. As Tommy looked, aterrible rattling breath went through the heavy, inert form. It seemedto rend body and soul asunder. There followed a brief palpitatingshudder, and the head on his arm sank sideways. A great stillnessfell.... 

Ralston knelt and freed him from his burden. "Get up!" he said. 

Tommy obeyed though he felt more like collapsing. He leaned upon thetable and stared while Ralston laid the big frame flat and straight uponthe floor. 

"Is he dead?" he asked in a whisper, as Ralston stood up. 

"Yes, " said Ralston. 

"It wasn't my fault, was it?" said Tommy uneasily. "I couldn't stop himtalking. "

"He'd have died anyhow, " said Ralston. "It's a wonder he ever got hereif he was shot in the jungle as he must have been. Thatmeans--probably--that the brutes have started their games to-night. Oddif he should be the first victim!"

Tommy shuddered uncontrollably. 

Ralston gripped his arm. "Don't be a fool now! Death is nothingextraordinary, after all. It's an experience we've all got to go throughsome time or other. It doesn't scare me. It won't you when you're a bitolder. As for this fellow, it's about the best thing that could happenfor everyone concerned. Just rememer that! Providence works pretty nearthe surface at times, and this is one of 'em. You won't believe me, Idaresay, but I never really felt that Ralph Dacre was dead--until thismoment. "

He led Tommy from the room with the words. It was not his custom toexpress himself so freely, but he wanted to get that horror-strickenlook out of the boy's eyes. He talked to give him time. 

"And now look here!" he said. "You've got to keep your head--for you'llwant it. I'll give you something to steady you, and after that you'll beon your own. You must cut back to The Green Bungalow and find BernardMonck and tell him just what has happened--no one else mind, untilyou've seen him. He's discreet enough. I'm going round to the Colonel. For if what I think has happened, those devils are ahead of us bytwenty-four hours, and we're not ready for 'em. They've probably cut thewires too. When you've done that, you report down at the barracks! Yoursister will probably have to be taken there for safety. And there may besome tough work before morning. "

These last words of his had a magical effect upon Tommy. His eyessuddenly shone. Ralston had accomplished his purpose. Nevertheless, hetook him back to the surgery and made him swallow some _sal volatile_ inspite of protest. 

"And now you won't be a fool, will you?" he said at parting. "I shouldbe sorry if you got shot to no purpose. Monck would be sorry too. "

"Do you know where he is?" questioned Tommy point-blank. 

"Yes. " Blunt and uncompromising came Ralston's reply. "But I'm not goingto tell you, so don't you worry yourself! You stick to business, Tommy, and for heaven's sake don't go round and make a mush of it!"

"Stick to business yourself!" said Tommy rudely, suddenly awaking to thefact that he was being dictated to; then pulled up, faintly grinning. "Sorry: I didn't mean that. You're a brick. Consider it unsaid!Good-bye!"

He held out his hand to Ralston who took it and thumped him on the backby way of acknowledgment. 

"You're growing up, " he remarked with approval, as Tommy went his way. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE FIERY VORTEX

"There is nothing more to be done, " said Peter with mournful eyes uponthe baby in the _ayah's_ arms. "Will not my _mem-sahib_ take her rest?"

Stella's eyes also rested upon the tiny wizen face. She knew that Peterspoke truly. There was nothing more to be done. She might send yet againfor Major Ralston. But of what avail? He had told her that he could dono more. The little life was slipping swiftly, swiftly, out of herreach. Very soon only the desert emptiness would be left. 

"The _mem-sahib_ may trust her _baba_ to Hanani, " murmured the _ayah_behind the enveloping veil. "Hanani loves the _baba_ too. "

"Oh, I know, " Stella said. 

Yet she hung over the _ayah's_ shoulder, for to-night of all nights shesomehow felt that she could not tear herself away. 

There had been a change during the day--a change so gradual as to bealmost imperceptible save to her yearning eyes. She was certain that thebaby was weaker. He had cried less, had, she believed, suffered less;and now he lay quite passive in the _ayah's_ arms. Only by the feeble, fluttering breath that came and went so fitfully could she have toldthat the tiny spark yet lingered in the poor little wasted frame. 

Major Ralston had told her earlier in the evening that he might go on inthis state for days, but she did not think it probable. She was surethat every hour now brought an infinitesimal difference. She felt thatthe end was drawing near. 

And so a great reluctance to go possessed her, even though she would bewithin call all night. She had a hungry longing to stay and watch thelittle unconscious face which would soon be gone from her sight. Shewanted to hold each minute of the few hours left. 

Very softly Peter came to her side. "My _mem-sahib_ will rest?" he saidwistfully. 

She looked at him. His faithful eyes besought her like the eyes of adog. Their dumb adoration somehow made her want to cry. 

"If I could only stay to-night, Peter!" she said. 

"_Mem-sahib_, " he urged very pleadingly, "the _baba_ sleeps now. It maybe he will want you to-morrow. And if my _mem-sahib_ has not slept shewill be too weary then. "

Again she knew that he spoke the truth. There had been times of latewhen she had been made aware of the fact that her strength was nearingits limit. She knew it would be sheer madness to neglect the warninglest, as Peter suggested, her baby's need of her outlasted herendurance. She must husband all the strength she had. 

With a sigh she bent and touched the tiny forehead with her lips. Hanani's hand, long and bony, gently stroked her arm as she did so. 

"Old Hanani knows, _mem-sahib_, " she whispered under her breath. 

The tears she had barely checked a moment before sprang to Stella'seyes. She held the dark hand in silence and was subtly comfortedthereby. 

Passing through the door that Peter held open for her, she gave him herhand also. He bent very low over it, just as he had bent on that firstwedding-day of hers so long--so long--ago, and touched it with hisforehead. The memory flashed back upon her oddly. She heard again RalphDacre's voice speaking in her ear. "You, Stella, --you are as ageless asthe stars!" The pride and the passion of his tones stabbed through herwith a curious poignancy. Strange that the thought of him should come toher with such vividness to-night! She passed on to her room, as onemoving in a painful trance. 

For a space she lingered there, hardly knowing what she did; then sheremembered that she had not bidden Bernard good-night, and mechanicallyher steps turned in his direction. 

He was generally smoking and working on the verandah at that hour. Shemade her way to the dining-room as being the nearest approach. 

But half-way across the room the sound of Tommy's voice, sharp andagitated, came to her: Involuntarily she paused. He was with Bernard onthe verandah. 

"The devils shot him in the jungle, but he came on, got as far asRalston's bungalow, and collapsed there. He was dead in a fewminutes--before anything could be done. "

The words pierced through her trance, like a naked sword flashing withincredible swiftness, cutting asunder every bond, every fibre, that heldher soul confined. She sprang for the open window with a great andterrible cry. 

"Who is dead? Who? Who?"

The red glare of the lamp met her, dazzled her, seemed to enter herbrain and cruelly to burn her; but she did not heed it. She stood witharms flung wide in frantic supplication. 

"Everard!" she cried. "Oh God! My God! Not--Everard!"

Her wild words pierced the night, and all the voices of India seemed toanswer her in a mad discordant jangle of unintelligible sound. An owlhooted, a jackal yelped, and a chorus of savage, yelling laughter brokehideously across the clamour, swallowing it as a greater wave swallows alesser, overwhelming all that has gone before. 

The red glare of the lamp vanished from Stella's brain, leaving an awfulblankness, a sense as of something burnt out, a taste of ashes in themouth. But yet the darkness was full of horrors; unseen monsters leapedpast her as in a surging torrent, devils' hands clawed at her, devils'mouths cried unspeakable things. 

She stood as it were on the edge of the vortex, untouched, unafraid, beyond it all since that awful devouring flame had flared and gone out. She even wondered if it had killed her, so terribly aloof was she, sototally distinct from the pandemonium that raged around her. It had thevividness and the curious lack of all physical feeling of a nightmare. And yet through all her numbness she knew that she was waiting forsomeone--someone who was dead like herself. 

She had not seen either Bernard or Tommy in that blinding moment on theverandah. Doubtless they were fighting in that raging blackness in frontof her. She fancied once that she heard her brother's voice laughing asshe had sometimes heard him laugh on the polo-ground when he hadexecuted a difficult stroke. Immediately before her, a Titanic strugglewas going on. She could not see it, for the light in the room behind hadbeen extinguished also, but the dreadful sound of it made her think fora fleeting second of a great bull-stag being pulled down by a score ofleaping, wide-jawed hounds. 

And then very suddenly she herself was caught--caught from behind, dragged backwards off her feet. She cried out in a wild horror, but in asecond she was silenced. Some thick material that had a heavy nativescent about it--such a scent as she remembered vaguely to hang aboutHanani the _ayah_--was thrust over her face and head muffling alloutcry. Muscular arms gripped her with a fierce and ruthless mastery, and as they lifted and bore her away the nightmare was blotted from herbrain as if it had never been. She sank into oblivion.... 

CHAPTER IX

THE DESERT OF ASHES

Was it night? Was it morning? She could not tell. She opened her eyes toa weird and incomprehensible twilight, to the gurgling sound of water, the booming croak of a frog. 

At first she thought that she was dreaming, that presently these vagueimpressions would fade from her consciousness, and she would awake tonormal things, to the sunlight beating across the verandah, to thecheery call of Everard's _saice_ in the compound, and the tramp ofimpatient hoofs. And Everard himself would rise up from her side, andstoop and kiss her before he went. 

She began to wait for his kiss, first in genuine expectation, later witha semi-conscious tricking of the imagination. Never once had he left herwithout that kiss. 

But she waited in vain, and as she waited the current of her thoughtsgrew gradually clearer. She began to remember the happenings of thenight. It dawned upon her slowly and terribly that Everard was dead. 

When that memory came to her, her brain seemed to stand still. Therewas no passing on from that. Everard had been shot in the jungle--justas she had always known he would be. He had ridden on in spite of it. She pictured his grim endurance with shrinking vividness. He had riddenon to Major Ralston's bungalow and had collapsed there, --collapsed anddied before they could help him. Clearly before her inner vision rosethe scene, --Everard sinking down, broken and inert, all the indomitablestrength of him shattered at last, the steady courage quenched. 

Yet what was it he had once said to her? It rushed across her now--wordshe had uttered long ago on the night he had taken her to the ruinedtemple at Khanmulla. "My love is not the kind that burns and goes out. "She remembered the exact words, the quiver in the voice that had utteredthem. Then, that being so, he was loving her still. Across thedesert--her bitter desert of ashes--the lamp was shining even now. Lovelike his was immortal. Love such as that could never die. 

That comforted her for a space, but soon the sense of desolationreturned. She remembered their cruel estrangement. She remembered theirchild. And that last thought, entering like an electric force, gave herstrength. Surely it was morning, and he would be needing her! Had notPeter said he would want her in the morning?

With a sharp effort she raised herself; she must go to him. 

The next moment a sharp breath of amazement escaped her. Where was she?The strange twilight stretched up above her into infinite shadow. Beforeher was a broken archway through which vaguely she saw the heavy foliageof trees. Behind her she yet heard the splash and gurgle of water, thecroaking of frogs. And near at hand some tiny creature scratched andscuffled among loose stones. 

She sat staring about her, doubting the evidence of her senses, marvelling if it could all be a dream. For she recognized the place. Itwas the ruined temple of Khanmulla in which she sat. There were thecrumbling steps on which she had stood with Everard on the night that hehad mercilessly claimed her love, had taken her in his arms and saidthat it was Kismet. 

It was then that like a dagger-thrust the realization of his loss wentthrough her. It was then that she first tasted the hopeless anguish ofloneliness that awaited her, saw the long, long desert track stretchingout before her, leading she knew not whither. She bowed her head uponher arms and sat crushed, unconscious of all beside.... 

It must have been some time later that there fell a soft step besideher; a veiled figure, bent and slow of movement, stooped over her. 

"_Mem-sahib_!" a low voice said. 

She looked up, startled and wondering. "Hanani!" she said. 

"Yes, it is Hanani. " The woman's husky whisper came reassuringly inanswer. "Have no fear, _mem-sahib!_ You are safe here. "

"What--happened?" questioned Stella, still half-doubting the evidence ofher senses. "Where--where is my baby?"

Hanani knelt down by her side. "_Mem-sahib_, " she said very gently, "the_baba_ sleeps--in the keeping of God. "

It was tenderly spoken, so tenderly that--it came to her afterwards--shereceived the news with no sense of shock. She even felt as if she musthave somehow known it before. In the utter greyness of her desert--shehad walked alone. 

"He is dead?" she said. 

"Not dead, _mem-sahib_, " corrected the _ayah_ gently. She paused amoment, then in the same hushed voice that was scarcely more than awhisper: "He--passed, _mem-sahib_, in these arms, so easily, so gently, I knew not when the last breath came. You had been gone but a littlespace. I sent Peter to call you, but your room was empty. He returned, and I went to seek you myself. I reached you only as the storm broke. "

"Ah!" A sharp shudder caught Stella. "What--happened?" she asked again. 

"It was but a band of _budmashes, mem-sahib_. " A note of contemptsounded in the quiet rejoinder. "I think they were looking for Monck_sahib_--for the captain _sahib_. But they found him not. "

"No, " Stella said. "No. They had killed him already--in the jungle. Atleast, they had shot him. He died--afterwards. " She spoke dully; shefelt as if her heart had grown old within her, too old to feelpoignantly any more. "Go on!" she said, after a moment. "What happenedthen? Did they kill Bernard _sahib_ and Denvers _sahib_, too?"

"Neither, my _mem-sahib. _" Hanani's reply was prompt and confident. "Bernard _sahib_ was struck on the head and senseless when we draggedhim in. Denvers _sahib_ was not touched. It was he who put out the lampand saved their lives. Afterwards, I know not how, he raised a greatoutcry so that they thought they were surrounded and fled. Truly, Denvers _sahib_ is great. After that, he went for help. And I, _mem-sahib_, fearing they might return to visit their vengeance uponyou--being the wife of the captain _sahib_ whom they could not find--Iwrapped a _saree_ about your head and carried you away. " Humble pride inthe achievement sounded in Hanani's voice. "I knew that here you wouldbe safe, " she ended. "All evil-doers fear this place. It is said to bethe abode of unquiet spirits. "

Again Stella gazed around the place. Her eyes had become accustomed tothe green-hued twilight. The crumbling, damp-stained walls stretchedaway into darkness behind her, but the place held no terrors for her. She was too tired to be afraid. She only wondered, though without muchinterest, how Hanani had managed to accomplish the journey. 

"Where is Peter?" she asked at last. 

"Peter remained with Bernard _sahib_, " Hanani answered. "He will tellthem where to seek for you. "

Again Stella gazed about the place. It struck her as strange that Petershould have relinquished his guardianship of her, even in favour ofHanani. But the thought did not hold her for long. Evidently he hadknown that he could trust the woman as he trusted himself and herstrength must be almost superhuman. She was glad that he had stayedbehind with Bernard. 

She leaned her chin upon her hands and sat silent for a space. Butgradually, as she reviewed the situation, curiosity began to strugglethrough her lethargy. She looked at Hanani crouched humbly beside her, looked at her again and again, and at last her wonder found vent inspeech. 

"Hanani, " she said, "I don't quite understand everything. How did youget me here?"

Hanani's veiled head was bent. She turned it towards her slowly, almostreluctantly it seemed to Stella. 

"I carried you, _mem-sahib_, " she said. 

"You--carried--me!" Stella repeated the word incredulously. "But it is along way--a very long way--from Kurrumpore. "

Hanani was silent for a moment or two, as though irresolute. Then: "Ibrought you by a way unknown to you, _mem-sahib_, " she said. "Hafiz--youknow Hafiz?--he helped me. "

"Hafiz!" Stella frowned a little. Yes, by sight she knew him well. Hafiz the crafty, was her private name for him. 

"How did he help you?" she asked. 

Again Hanani seemed to hesitate as one reluctant to give away a secret. "From the shop of Hafiz--that is the shop of Rustam Karin in thebazaar, " she said at length, and Stella quivered at the name, "there isa passage that leads under the ground into the jungle. To those whoknow, the way is easy. It was thus, _mem-sahib_, that I brought youhither. "

"But how did you get me to the bazaar?" questioned Stella, still hardlybelieving. 

"It was very dark, _mem-sahib_; and the _budmashes_ were scattered. Theywould not touch an old woman such as Hanani. And you, my _mem-sahib_, were wrapped in a _saree_. With old Hanani you were safe. "

"Ah, why should you take all that trouble to save my life?" Stella said, a little quiver of passion in her voice. "Do you think life is soprecious to me--now?"

Hanani made a protesting gesture with one arm. "Lo, it is yet night, _mem-sahib_, " she said. "But is it not written in the sacred Book thatwith the dawn comes joy?"

"There can never be any joy for me again, " Stella said. 

Hanani leaned slowly forward. "Then will my _mem-sahib_ have missed themeaning of life, " she said. "Listen then--listen to old Hanani--whoknows! It is true that the _baba_ cannot return to the _mem-sahib_, butwould she call him back to pain? Have I not read in her eyes night afternight the silent prayer that he might go in peace? Now that the God ofgods has answered that prayer--now that the _baba_ is in peace--would my_mem-sahib_ have it otherwise? Would she call that loved one back? Wouldshe not rather thank the God of spirits for His great mercy--and so goher way rejoicing?"

Again the utterance was too full of tenderness to give her pain. It sankdeep into Stella's heart, stilling for a space the anguish. She lookedat the strange, draped figure beside her that spoke those husky words ofcomfort with a dawning sense of reverence. She had a curious feeling asof one being guided through a holy place. 

"You--comfort me, Hanani, " she said after a moment. "I don't think I amreally grieving for the _baba_ yet. That will come after. I knowthat--as you say--he is at peace, and I would not call him back. But--Hanani--that is not all. It is not even the half or the beginningof my trouble. The loss of my _baba_ I can bear--I could bear--bravely. But the loss of--of--" Words failed her unexpectedly. She bowed her headagain upon her arms and wept the bitter tears of despair. 

Hanani the _ayah_ sat very still by her side, her brown, bony handstightly gripped about her knees, her veiled head bent slightly forwardas though she watched for someone in the dimness of the broken archway. 

At last very, very slowly she spoke. 

"_Mem-sahib_, even in the desert the sun rises. There is always comfortfor those who go forward--even though they mourn. "

"Not for me, " sobbed Stella. "Not for those--who part--inbitterness--and never--meet again!"

"Never, _mem-sahib?_" Hanani yet gazed straight before her. Suddenly shemade a movement as if to rise, but checked herself as one reminded byexertion of physical infirmity. "The _mem-sahib_ weeps for her lord, "she said. "How shall Hanani comfort her? Yet never is a cruel word. Mayit not be that he will--even now--return?"

"He is dead, " whispered Stella. 

"Not so, _mem-sahib_. " Very gently Hanani corrected her. "The captain_sahib_ lives. "

"He--lives?" Stella started upright with the words. In the gloom hereyes shone with a sudden feverish light; but it very swiftly died. "Ah, don't torture me, Hanani!" she said. "You mean well, but--it doesn'thelp. "

"Hanani speaks the truth, " protested the old _ayah_, and behind theenveloping veil came an answering gleam as if she smiled. "My lord thecaptain _sahib_ spoke with Hafiz this very night. Hafiz will tell the_mem-sahib_. "

But Stella shook her head in hopeless unbelief. "I don't trust Hafiz, "she said wearily. 

"Yet Hafiz would not lie to old Hanani, " insisted the _ayah_ in thatsoft, insinuating whisper of hers. 

Stella reached out a trembling hand and laid it upon her shoulder. "Listen, Hanani!" she said. "I have never seen your face, yet I know youfor a friend. "

"Ask not to see it, _mem-sahib_, " swiftly interposed the _ayah_, "lestyou turn with loathing from one who loves you!"

Stella smiled, a quivering, piteous smile. "I should never do that, Hanani, " she said. "But I do not need to see it. I know you love me. Butdo not--out of your love for me--tell me a lie! It is false comfort. Itcannot help me. "

"But I have not lied, _mem-sahib_. " There was earnest assurance inHanani's voice--such assurance as could not be disregarded. "I have toldyou the truth. The captain _sahib_ is not dead. It was a false report. "

"Hanani! Are you--sure?" Stella's hand gripped the _ayah_'s shoulderwith convulsive, strength. "Then who--who--was the _sahib_ they shot inthe jungle--the _sahib_ who died at the bungalow of Ralston _sahib_?Did--Hafiz--tell you that?"

"That--" said Hanani, and paused as if considering how best to presentthe information, --"that was another _sahib_. "

"Another _sahib?_" Stella was trembling violently. Her hold upon Hananiwas the clutch of desperation, "Who--what was his name?"

She felt in the momentary pause that followed that the eyes behind theveil were looking at her strangely, speculatively. Then very softlyHanani answered her. 

"His name, _mem-sahib_, was Dacre. "

"Dacre!" Stella repeated the name blankly. It seemed to hold too great ameaning for her to grasp. 

"So Hafiz told Hanani, " said the _ayah_. 

"But--Dacre!" Stella hung upon the name as if it held her by afascination from which she could not shake free. "Is that--all youknow?" she said at last. 

"Not all, my _mem-sahib_, " answered Hanani, in the soothing tone of onewho instructs a child. "Hafiz knew the _sahib_ in the days before Hananicame to Kurrumpore. Hafiz told a strange story of the _sahib_. He hadmarried and had taken his wife to the mountains beyond Srinagar. Andthere an evil fate had overtaken him, and she--the _mem-sahib_--hadreturned alone. "

Hanani paused dramatically. 

"Go on!" gasped Stella almost inarticulately. 

Hanani took up her tale again in a mysterious whisper that crept ineerie echoes about the ruined place in which they sat. "_Mem-sahib_, Hafiz said that there was doubtless a reason for which he feigned death. He said that Dacre _sahib_ was a bad man, and my lord the captain_sahib_ knew it. Wherefore he followed him to the mountains andcommanded him to be gone, and thus--he went. "

"But who--told--Hafiz?" questioned Stella, still struggling againstunbelief. 

"How should Hanani know?" murmured the _ayah_ deprecatingly "Hafiz livesin the bazaar. He hears many things--some true--some false. But thatDacre _sahib_ returned last night and that he now is dead is true, _mem-sahib_. And that my lord the captain _sahib_ lives is also true. Hanani swears it by her grey hairs. "

"Then where--where is the captain _sahib_?" whispered Stella. 

The _ayah_ shook her head. "It is not given to Hanani to know allthings, " she protested. "But--she can find out. Does the _mem-sahib_desire her to find out?"

"Yes, " Stella breathed. 

The fantastic tale was running like a mad tarantella through her brain. Her thoughts were in a whirl. But she clung to the thought of Everard asa shipwrecked mariner clings to a rock. He yet lived; he had not passedout of her reach. It might be he was even then at Khanmulla a few shortmiles away. All her doubt of him, all evil suspicions, vanished in agreat and overwhelming longing for his presence. It suddenly came to herthat she had wronged him, and before that unquestionable conviction thestory of Ralph Dacre's return was dwarfed to utter insignificance. Whatwas Ralph Dacre to her? She had travelled far--oh, very far--throughthe desert since the days of that strange dream in the Himalayas. Livingor dead, surely he had no claim upon her now!

Impulsively she stooped towards Hanani. "Take me to him!" she said. "Take me to him! I am sure you know where he is. "

Hanani drew back slightly. "_Mem-sahib_, it will take time to find him, "she remonstrated. "Hanani is not a young woman. Moreover--" she stoppedsuddenly, and turned her head. 

"What is it?" said Stella. 

"I heard a sound, _mem-sahib_. " Hanani rose slowly to her feet. Itseemed to Stella that she was more bent, more deliberate of movement, than usual. Doubtless the wild adventure of the night had told upon her. She watched her with a tinge of compunction as she made her somewhatdifficult way towards the archway at the top of the broken marble steps. A flying-fox flapped eerily past her as she went, dipping over the bent, veiled head with as little fear as if she were a recognized inhabitantof that wild place. 

A sharp sense of unreality stabbed Stella. She felt as one coming out ofan all-absorbing dream. Obeying an instinctive impulse, she rose upquickly to follow. But even as she did so, two things happened. 

Hanani passed like a shadow from her sight, and a voice sheknew--Tommy's voice, somewhat high-pitched and anxious--called hername. 

Swiftly she moved to meet him. "I am here, Tommy! I am here!"

And then she tottered, feeling her strength begin to fail. 

"Oh, Tommy!" she gasped. "Help me!"

He sprang up the steps and caught her in his arms. "You hang on to me!"he said. "I've got you. "

She leaned upon him quivering, with closed eyes. "I am afraid I must, "she said weakly. "Forgive me for being so stupid!"

"All right, darling. All right, " he said. "You're not hurt?"

"No, oh no! Only giddy--stupid!" She fought desperately forself-command. "I shall be all right in a minute. "

She heard the voices of men below her, but she could not open her eyesto look. Tommy supported her strongly, and in a few seconds she wasaware of someone on her other side, of a steady capable hand graspingher wrist. 

"Drink this!" said Ralston's voice. "It'll help you. "

He was holding something to her lips, and she drank mechanically. 

"That's better, " he said. "You've had a rough time, I'm afraid, but it'sover now. Think you can walk, or shall we carry you?"

The matter-of-fact tones seemed to calm the chaos of her brain. Shelooked up at him with a faint, brave smile. 

"I will walk, --of course. There is nothing the matter with me. What hashappened at Kurrumpore? Is all well?"

He met her eyes. "Yes, " he said quietly. 

Her look flinched momentarily from his, but the next instant she met itsquarely. "I know about--my baby, " she said. 

He bent his head. "You could not wish it otherwise, " he said, gently. 

She answered him with firmness, "No. "

The few words helped to restore her self-possession. With her hand uponTommy's arm she descended the steps into the green gloom of the jungle. The morning sun was smiting through the leaves. It gleamed in her eyeslike the flashing of a sword. But--though the simile held her mind for aspace--she felt no shrinking. She had a curious conviction that the pathlay open before her at last. The Angel with the Flaming Sword no longerbarred the way. 

A party of Indian soldiers awaited her. She did not see how many. Perhaps she was too tired to take any very vivid interest in hersurroundings. A native litter stood a few yards from the foot of thesteps. Tommy guided her to it, Major Ralston walking on her other side. 

She turned to the latter as they reached it. "Where is Hanani?" shesaid. 

He raised his brows for a moment. "She has probably gone back to herpeople, " he answered. 

"She was here with me, only a minute ago, " Stella said. 

He glanced round. "She knows her way no doubt. We had better not waitnow. If you want her, I will find her for you later. "

"Thank you, " Stella said. But she still paused, looking from Ralston toTommy and back again, as one uncertain. 

"What is it, darling?" said Tommy gently. 

She put her hand to her head with a weary gesture of bewilderment. "I amvery stupid, " she said. "I can't think properly. You are sure everythingis all right?"

"Quite sure, dear, " he said. "Don't try to think now. You are done up. You must rest. "

Her face quivered suddenly like the face of a tired child. "Iwant--Everard, " she said piteously. "Won't you--can't you--bring him tome? There is something--I want--to say to him. "

There was an instant's pause. She felt Tommy's arm tighten protectinglyaround her, but he did not speak. 

It was Major Ralston who answered her. "Certainly he shall come to you. I will see that he does. "

The confidence of his reply comforted her. She trusted Major Ralstoninstinctively. She entered the litter and sank down among the cushionswith a sigh. 

As they bore her away along the narrow, winding path which once she hadtrodden with Everard Monck so long, long ago, on the night of hersurrender to the mastery of his love, utter exhaustion overcame her andthe sleep, which for so long she had denied herself, came upon her likean overwhelming flood, sweeping her once more into the deeps ofoblivion. She went without a backward thought. 

CHAPTER X

THE ANGEL

It was many hours before she awoke and in all those hours she neverdreamed. She only slept and slept and slept in total unconsciousness, wrapt about in the silence of her desert. 

She awoke at length quite fully, quite suddenly, to a sense of appallingloneliness, to a desolation unutterable. She opened her eyes wide upon adarkness that could be felt, and almost cried aloud with the terror ofit. For a few palpitating moments it seemed to her that the mostdreadful thing that could possibly happen to her had come upon herunawares. 

And then, even as she started up in a wild horror, a voice spoke to her, a hand touched her, and her fear was stayed. 

"Stella!" the voice said, and steady fingers came up out of the darknessand closed upon her arm. 

Her heart gave one great leap within her, and was still. She did notspeak in answer, for she could not. She could only sit in the darknessand wait. If it were a dream, it would pass--ah, so swiftly! If it werereality, surely, surely he would speak again!

He spoke--softly through the silence. "I don't want to startle you. Areyou startled? I've put out the lamp. You are not afraid?"

Her voice came back to her; her heart jerked on, beating strangely, spasmodically, like a maimed thing. "Am I awake?" she said. "Isit--really--you?"

"Yes, " he said. "Can you listen to me a moment? You won't be afraid?"

She quivered at the repeated question. "Everard--no!"

He was silent then, as if he did not know how to continue. And she, finding her strength, leaned to him in the darkness, feeling for him, still hardly believing that it was not a dream. 

He took her wandering hand and held it imprisoned. The firmness of hisgrasp reassured her, but it came to her that his hands were cold; andshe wondered. 

"I have something to say to you, " he said. 

She sat quite still in his hold, but it frightened her. "Where are you?"she whispered. 

"I am just--kneeling by your side, " he said. "Don't tremble--or beafraid! There is nothing to frighten you. Stella, " his voice came almostin a whisper. "Hanani--the _ayah_--told you something in the ruinedtemple at Khanmulla. Can you remember what it was?"

"Ah!" she said. "Do you mean about--Ralph Dacre?"

"I do mean that, " he said. "I don't know if you actually believed it. It may have sounded--fantastic. But--it was true. "

"Ah!" she said again. And then she knew why he had turned out the lamp. It was that he might not see her face when he told her--or she his. 

He went on; his hold upon her had tightened, but she knew that he wasunconscious of it. It was as if he clung to her in anguish--though sheheard no sign of suffering in his low voice. "I have done the utmost tokeep the truth from you--but Fate has been against me all through. Isent him away from you in the first place because I heard--toolate--that he had a wife in England. I married you because--" he pausedmomentarily--"ah well, that doesn't come into the story, " he said. "Imarried you, believing you free. Then came Bernard, and told me that thewife--Dacre's wife--had died just before his marriage to you. That alsocame--too late. "

He stopped again, and she knew that his head was bowed upon his armsthough she could not free her hand to touch it. 

"You know the rest, " he said, and his voice came to her oddly broken andunfamiliar. "I kept it from you. I couldn't bear the thought of yourfacing--that, --especially after--after the birth of--the child. Evenwhen you found out I had tricked you in that native rig-out, I couldn'tendure the thought of your knowing. I nearly killed myself that night. It seemed the only way. But Bernard stopped me. I told him the truth. He said I was wrong not to tell you. But--somehow--I couldn't. "

"Oh, I wish--I wish you had, " she breathed. 

"Do you? Well, --I couldn't. It's hard enough to tell you now. You wereso wonderful, so beautiful, and they had flung mud at you from thebeginning. I thought I had made you safe, dear, instead of--dragging youdown. "

"Everard!" Her voice was quick and passionate. She made a sudden effortand freed one hand; but he caught it again sharply. 

"No, you mustn't, Stella! I haven't finished. Wait!"

His voice compelled her; she submitted hardly knowing that she did so. 

"It is over now, " he said. "The fellow is dead. But, Stella, --he hadfound out--what I had found out. And he was on his way to you. He meantto--claim you. "

She shuddered--a hard, convulsive shudder--as if some loathsome thinghad touched her. "But--I would never have gone back, " she said. 

"No, " he answered grimly, "you wouldn't. I was here, and I should haveshot him. They saved me that trouble. "

"You were--here!" she said. 

"Yes, --much nearer to you than you imagined. " Almost curtly he answered. "Did you think I would leave you at the mercy of those devils? You!" Hestopped himself sharply. "No I was here to protect you--and I wouldhave done it--though I should have shot myself afterwards. Even Bernardwould have seen the force of that. But it didn't come to pass that way. It wasn't intended that it should. Well, it is over. There are not manywho know--only Bernard, Tommy, and Ralston. They are going--ifpossible--to keep it dark, to suppress his name. I told them they must. "His voice rang suddenly harsh, but softened again immediately. "That'sall, dear--or nearly all. I hope it hasn't shocked you unutterably. Ithink the secret is safe anyhow, so you won't have--that--to face. I'mgoing now. I'll send--Peter--to light the lamp and bring you somethingto eat. And you'll undress, won't you, and go to bed? It's late. "

He made as if he would rise, but her hands turned swiftly in his, turnedand held him fast. 

"Everard--Everard, why should you go?" she whispered tensely into thedarkness that hid his face. 

He yielded in a measure to her hold, but he would not suffer himself tobe drawn nearer. 

"Why?" she said again insistently. 

He hesitated. "I think, " he said slowly "that you will find an answer tothat question--possibly more than one--when you have had time to thinkit over. "

"What do you mean?" she breathed. 

"Must I put it into words?" he said. 

She heard the pain in his voice, but for the first time she passed itby unheeded. "Yes, tell me!" she said. "I must know. "

He was silent for a little, as if mustering his forces. Then, his handstight upon hers, he spoke. "In the first place, you are Dacre's widow, and not--my wife. "

She quivered in his hold. "And then?" she whispered. 

"And then, " he said, "our baby is dead, so you are free fromall--obligations. "

Her hands clenched hard upon his. "Is that all?"

"No. " With sudden passion he answered her. "There are two more reasonswhy I should go. One is--that I have made your life a hell on earth. Youhave said it, and I know it to be true. Ah, you had better let mego--and go quickly. For your own sake--you had better!"

But she ignored the warning, holding him almost fiercely. "And the lastreason?" she said. 

He was silent for a few seconds, and in his silence there was somethingof an electric quality, something that pierced and scorched yetstrangely drew her. "Someone else can tell you that, " he said at length. "It isn't that I am a broken man. I know that wouldn't affect you oneway or another. It is that I have done a thing that you would hate--yetthat I would do again to-morrow if the need arose. You can ask Ralstonwhat it is! Say I told you to! He knows. "

"But I ask you, " she said, and still her hands gripped his. "Everard, why don't you tell me? Are you--afraid to tell me?"

"No, " he said. 

"Then answer me!" she said, her breathing sharp and uneven. "Tell me thetruth! Make me understand you--once and for all!"

"You have always understood me, " he said. 

"No--no!" she protested. 

"Well, nearly always, " he amended. "As long as you have known mylove--you have known me. My love for you is myself--the immortal part. The rest--doesn't count. "

"Ah!" she said, and suddenly the very soul of her rose up and spoke. "Then you needn't tell me any more, dear love--dear love. I don't needto hear it. It doesn't matter. It can't make any difference. Nothingever can again, for, as you say, nothing else counts. Go if youmust, --but if you do--I shall follow you--I shall follow you--to theworld's end. "

"Stella!" he said. 

"I mean it, " she told him, and her voice throbbed with a fiery forcethat was deeper than passion, stronger than aught human. "You are mineand I am yours. God knows, dear, --God knows that is all that mattersnow. I didn't understand before. I do now, I think--suffering has taughtme--many things. Perhaps it is--His Angel. "

"The Angel with the Flaming Sword, " he said, under his breath. 

"But the Sword is turned away, " she said. "The way is open. "

He got to his feet abruptly. "Wait!" he said. "Before you saythat--wait!"

He freed himself from her hold gently but very decidedly. She knew thatfor a second he stood close above her with arms outflung before heturned away. Then there came the rasp of a match, a sudden flare in thedarkness. She looked to see his face--and uttered a cry. 

It was Hanani, the veiled _ayah_, who stooped to kindle the lamp.... 

CHAPTER XI

THE DAWN

"This country is like an infernal machine, " said Bernard. "You neverknow when it's going to explode. There's only one reliable thing in it, and that's Peter. "

He turned his bandaged head in the latter's direction, and received atender, indulgent smile in answer. Peter loved the big blue-eyed _sahib_with the same love which he had for the children of the _sahib-log_. 

"Whatever happens, " Bernard continued, "there's always Peter. He keepsthe whole show going, and is never absent when wanted. In fact, I beginto think that India wouldn't be India without him. "

"A very handsome compliment, " said Sir Reginald. 

"It is, isn't it?" smiled Bernard. "I have a vast respect for him--aquite unbounded respect. He is the greatest greaser of wheels I haveever met. Help yourself, sir, won't you? I am sorry I can't join you, but Major Ralston insists that I must walk circumspectly, being on hissick list. I really don't know why my skull was not cracked. Hedeclares it ought to have been and even seems inclined to be ratherdisgusted with me because it wasn't. "

"You had a very lucky escape, " said Sir Reginald. "Allow me tocongratulate you!"

"And a very enjoyable scrap, " said Bernard, with kindling eyes. "Thanks!I wouldn't have missed it for the world, --the damn' dirty blackguards!"

"Was Mrs. Monck much upset?" asked Sir Reginald. "I have never yet hadthe pleasure of meeting her. "

"She was more upset on my brother's account than her own, " Bernard said, giving his visitor a shrewd look. "She thought he had come to harm. "

"Ah!" said Sir Reginald, and held his glass up to the light. "And thatwas not so?"

"No, " said Bernard, and closed his lips. 

There was a distinct pause before Sir Reginald's eyes left his glass andcame down to him. They held a faint whimsical smile. 

"We owe your brother a good deal, " he said. 

"Do we?" said Bernard. 

Sir Reginald's smile became more pronounced. "I have been told that itis entirely owing to him--his forethought, secrecy, and intimateknowledge obtained at considerable personal risk--that this business wasnot of a far more serious nature. I was of course in constantcommunication with Colonel Mansfield. We knew exactly where the dangerlay, and we were prepared for all emergencies. "

"Except the one which actually rose, " suggested Bernard. 

"That?" said Sir Reginald. "That was a mere flash in the pan. But wewere prepared even for that. My men were all in Markestan by daybreak, thanks to the promptitude of young Denvers. "

"If all our throats had been slit the previous night, that wouldn't havehelped us much, " Bernard pointed out. 

Sir Reginald broke into a laugh. "Well, dash it, man! We did our best. And anyway they weren't, so you haven't much cause for complaint. "

"You see, I was one of the casualties, " explained Bernard. "Thataccounts for my being a bit critical. So you expected something worsethan this?"

"I did. " Sir Reginald spoke soberly again. "If we hadn't been prepared, the whole of Markestan would have been ablaze by now from end to end. "

"Instead of which, you have only permitted us a fizz, a few bangs, and asplutter-out, as Tommy describes it, " remarked Bernard. "And you haven'teven caught the Rajah. "

"I wasn't out to catch him, " said Sir Reginald. "But I will tell you whoI am out to catch, though I am afraid I am applying in the wrongquarter. "

Bernard's eyes gleamed with a hint of malicious amusement. "I thoughtmy health was not primarily responsible for the honour of your visit, sir, " he said. 

"No, " said Sir Reginald, with simplicity. "I really came because I wantto take you into my confidence, and to ask for your confidence inreturn. "

"I thought so, " said Bernard, and slowly shook his head. "I'm afraidit's no go. I am sealed. "

"Ah! And that even though I give you my word it would be to yourbrother's interest to break the seal?" questioned Sir Reginald. 

Bernard's eyes suddenly drooped under their red brows. "And betray mytrust?" he said lazily. 

"I beg your pardon, " said Sir Reginald. 

He finished his drink with a speed that suggested embarrassment, but thenext moment he smiled. "You had me there, padre. I withdraw thesuggestion. I should not have made it if I could see the man himself. But he has disappeared, and even Barnes, who knows everything, can'ttell us where to look for him. "

"Neither can I, " said Bernard. "I am not in his confidence to thatextent. "

"Why don't you ask his wife?" a low voice said. 

Both men started. Sir Reginald sprang to his feet. "Mrs. Monck!"

"Yes, " Stella said. She stood a moment framed in the French window, looking at him. Then she stepped forward with outstretched hand. Themorning sunshine caught her as she moved. She was very pale and her eyeswere deeply shadowed, but she was exceedingly beautiful. 

"I heard your voices, " she said, looking at Sir Reginald, while her handlay in his. "I didn't mean to listen at first. But I was tempted, because you were talking of--my husband, and--" she smiled at himfaintly, "I fell. "

"I think you were justified, " Sir Reginald said. 

"Thank you, " she answered gently. She turned from him to Bernard, andbending kissed him. "Are you better? Peter told me it wasn't serious. Iwould have come to you sooner, but I was asleep for a very long time, and afterwards--Everard wanted me. "

"Everard!" he said sharply. "Is he here?"

"Sit down!" murmured Sir Reginald, drawing forward his chair. 

But Stella remained standing, her hand upon Bernard's shoulder. "Thankyou. But I haven't come to stay. Only to tell you--just to tell you--allthe things that Bernard couldn't, without betraying his trust. "

"My dear, dear child!" Bernard broke in quickly, but Sir Reginaldintervened in the same moment. 

"No, no! Pardon me! Let her speak! She wishes to do so, and I--wish tolisten. "

Stella's hand pressed a little upon Bernard's shoulder, as though shesupported herself thereby. 

"It is right that you should know, Sir Reginald, " she said. "It is onlyfor my sake that it has been kept from you. But I--have travelled thedesert too long to mind an extra stone or two by the way. First, withregard to the suspicion which drove him out of the Army. Youthought--everyone thought--that he had killed Ralph Dacre up in themountains. Even I thought so. " Her voice trembled a little. "And I hadless excuse than any one else, for he swore to me that he wasinnocent--though he would not--could not--tell me the truth of thematter. The truth was simply this. Ralph Dacre was not dead. "

"Ah!" Sir Reginald said softly. 

Bernard reached up and strongly grasped the hand that rested upon him. But he spoke no word. 

Stella went on with greater steadiness, her eyes resolutely meeting theshrewd old eyes that watched her. "He--Everard--came between us becauseonly a fortnight after our marriage he received the news that Ralph hada wife living in England. Perhaps I ought to tell you--though this in noway influenced him--that my marriage to Ralph was a mistake. I marriedhim because I was unhappy, not because I loved him. I sinned, and I havebeen punished. "

"Poor girl!" said Sir Reginald very gently. 

Her eyelids quivered, but she would not suffer them to fall. "Everardsent him away from me, made him vanish completely, and then came himselfto me--he was in native disguise--and told me he was dead. I suppose itwas wrong of him. If so, he too has been punished. But he wanted to savemy pride. I had plenty of pride in those days. It is all gone now. Atleast, all I have left is for him--that his honour may be vindicated. Iam afraid I am telling the story very badly. Forgive me for taking solong!"

"There is no hurry, " Sir Reginald answered in the same gentle voice. "And you are telling it very well. "

She smiled again--her faint, sad smile. "You are very kind. It makes itmuch easier. You know how clever he is in native disguise. I neverrecognized him. I came back, as I thought, a widow. And then--it wasnearly a year after--I married Everard, because I loved him. It was justbefore Captain Ermsted's murder. We had to come back here in a hurrybecause of it. Then when the summer came we had to separate. I went toBhulwana for the birth of my baby. And while I was there, he heard thatRalph Dacre's wife had died in England only a few days before hismarriage to me. That meant of course that I was not Everard's legalwife, that the baby was illegitimate. But--I was very ill at thetime--he kept it from me. "

"Of course he did, " said Sir Reginald. 

"Of course he did, " said Bernard. 

"Yes, " she assented. "He couldn't help himself then. But he ought tohave told me afterwards--when--when I began to have that horriblesuspicion that everyone else had, that he had murdered Ralph Dacre. "

"A difficult point, " said Sir Reginald. 

"I told him he was making a mistake, " said Bernard. 

Stella glanced down at him. "It was a mistake, " she said. "But he madeit out of love for me, because he thought--he thought--that my pride wasdearer to me than my love. I don't wonder he thought so. I gave himevery reason. For I wouldn't listen to him, wouldn't believe him. I senthim away. " Her breath caught suddenly, and she put a quick hand to herthroat. "That is what hurts me most, " she said after a moment, --"just toremember that, --to remember what I made him suffer--how I failedhim--when Tommy, even Tommy, believed in him--went after him to tell himso. "

"But we all make mistakes, " said Sir Reginald gently, "or we shouldn'tbe human. "

She controlled herself with an effort. "Yes. He said that, and told meto forget it. I don't know if I can, but I shall try. I shall try tomake up to him for it for as long as I live. And I thank God--for givingme the chance. "

Her deep voice quivered, and Bernard's hand tightened upon hers. "Yes, "he said, looking at Sir Reginald. "Ralph Dacre is dead. He was theunknown man who was shot in the jungle two nights ago. "

"Indeed!" said Sir Reginald sharply. 

"Yes, " Stella said. "He too had found out--about the death of his firstwife. And he was on his way to me. But--" she suddenly covered hereyes--"I couldn't have borne it. I would have killed myself first. "

Bernard reached up and thrust his arm about her, without speaking. 

She leaned against him for a few seconds as if the story had taxed herstrength too far. Then Sir Reginald came to her and with a fatherlygesture drew her hand away from her face. 

"My dear, " he said very kindly, "thank you a thousand times for tellingme this. I know it's been infernally hard. I admire you for it more thanI can say. It hasn't been too much for you I hope?"

She smiled at him through tears. "No--no! You are both--so kind. "

He stooped with a very courtly gesture and carried her hand to his lips. "Everard Monck is a very lucky man, " he said, "but I think he is almostworthy of his luck. And now--I want you to tell me one thing more. Wherecan I find him?"

Her hand trembled a little in his. "I--am not sure he would wish me totell you that. "

Sir Reginald's grey moustache twitched whimsically. "If his desire forprivacy is so great, it shall be respected. Will you take him a messagefrom me?"

"Of course, " she said. 

Sir Reginald patted her hand and released it. "Then please tell him, "he said, "that the Indian Empire cannot afford to lose the services ofso valuable a servant as he has proved himself to be, and if he willaccept a secretaryship with me I think there is small doubt that it willeventually lead to much greater things. "

Stella gave a great start. "Oh, do you mean that?" she said. 

Sir Reginald smiled openly. "I really do, Mrs. Monck, and I shall thinkmyself very fortunate to secure him. You will use your influence, Ihope, to induce him to accept?"

"But of course, " she said. 

"Poor Stella!" said Bernard. "And she hates India!"

She turned upon him almost in anger. "How dare you pity me? I loveanywhere that I can be with him. "

"So like a woman!" commented Bernard. "Or is it something in the air?I'll never bring Tessa out here when she's grown up, or she'll marry andbe stuck here for the rest of her life. "

"You can do as you like with Tessa, " said Stella, and turned again toSir Reginald. "Is that all you want of me now?"

"One thing more, " he answered gently. "I hope I may say it withoutgiving offence. "

With a gesture all-unconsciously regal she gave him both her hands. "Youmay say--anything, " she said impulsively. 

He bent again courteously. "Mrs. Monck, will you invite me to witnessthe ratification of the bond already existing between my friend EverardMonck, and the lady who is honouring him by becoming his lawful wife?"

She flushed deeply but not painfully. "I will, " she said. "Bernard, youwill see to that, I know. "

"Yes; leave it to me, dear!" said Bernard. 

"Thank you, " she said; and to Sir Reginald: "Good-bye! I am going to myhusband now. "

"Good-bye, Mrs. Monck!" he said. "And many thanks for your graciousnessto a stranger. "

"Oh no!" she answered quickly. "You are a friend--of us both. "

"I am proud to be called so, " he said. 

As she passed back into the bungalow her heart fluttered within her likethe wings of a bird mounting upwards in the dawning. The sun had risenupon the desert. 

CHAPTER XII

THE BLUE JAY

"Tommy says his name is Sprinter; but Uncle St. Bernard calls himWhisky. I wonder which is the prettiest, " said Tessa. 

"I should call him Whisky out of compliment to Uncle St. Bernard, " saidMrs. Ralston. 

"He certainly does whisk, " said Tessa. "But then--Tommy gave him to me. "She spoke with tender eyes upon a young mongoose that gambolled at herfeet. "Isn't he a love?" she said. "But he isn't nearly so pretty asdarling Scooter, " she added loyally. "Is he, Aunt Mary?"

"Not yet, dear, " said Mrs. Ralston with a smile. 

"I wish Uncle St. Bernard and Tommy would come, " said Tessa restlessly. 

"I hope you are going to be very good, " said Mrs. Ralston. 

"Oh yes, " said Tessa rather wearily. "But I wish I hadn't begun quite sosoon. Do you think Uncle St. Bernard will spoil me, Aunt Mary?"

"I hope not, dear, " said Mrs. Ralston. 

Tessa sighed a little. "I wonder if I shall be sick on the voyage Home. I don't want to be sick, Aunt Mary. "

"I shouldn't think about it if I were you, dear, " said Mrs. Ralstonsensibly. 

"But I want to think about it, " said Tessa earnestly. "I want to thinkabout every minute of it. I shall enjoy it so. Dear Uncle St. Bernardsaid in his letter the other day that we should be like the little pigssetting out to seek their fortunes. He says he is going to send me toschool--only a day school though. Aunt Mary, shall I like going toschool?"

"Of course you will, dear. What sensible little girl doesn't?"

"I'm sorry I'm going away from you, " said Tessa suddenly. "But you'llhave Uncle Jerry, won't you? Just the same as Aunt Stella will havedarling Uncle Everard. I think I'm sorriest of all for poor Tommy. "

"I daresay he will get over it, " said Mrs. Ralston. "We will hope soanyway. "

"He has promised to write to me, " said Tessa rather wistfully. "Do youthink he will forget to, Aunt Mary?"

"I'll see he doesn't, " said Mrs. Ralston. 

"Oh, thank you. " Tessa embraced her tenderly. "And I'll write to youvery, very often. P'raps I'll write in French some day. Would you likethat?"

"Oh, very much, " said Mrs. Ralston. 

"Then I will, " promised Tessa. "And oh, here they are at last! Take careof Whisky for me while I go and meet them!"

She was gone with the words--a little, flying figure with armsoutspread, rushing to meet her friends. 

"That child gets wilder and more harum-scarum every day, " observed LadyHarriet, who was passing The Grand Stand in her carriage at the moment. "She will certainly go the same way as her mother if that veryeasy-going parson has the managing of her. "

The easy-going parson, however, had no such misgivings. He caught thechild up in his arms with a whoop of welcome. 

"Well run, my Princess Bluebell! Hullo, Tommy! Who are you saluting sodeferentially?"

"Only that vicious old white cat, Lady Harriet, " said Tommy. "Hullo, Tessa! Your legs get six inches longer every time I look at 'em. Put herdown, St. Bernard! She's going to race me to The Grand Stand. "

"But I want to go and see Uncle Everard and Aunt Stella at The Nest, "protested Tessa, hanging back from the contest. "Besides Aunt Mary saysI'm not to get hot. "

"You can't go there anyway, " said Tommy inexorably. "The Nest is closedto the public for to-night. They are going to have a very sacred andparticular evening all to themselves. That's why they wouldn't come inhere with us. "

"Are they love-making?" asked Tessa, with serious eyes. "Do you know, Iheard a blue jay laughing up there this morning. Was that what hemeant?"

"Something of that silly nature, " said Tommy. "And he's going to be apublic character is Uncle Everard, so he is wise to make the most of hisprivacy now. Ah, Bhulwana, " he stretched his arms to the pine-trees, "how I have yearned for thee!"

"And me too, " said Tessa jealously. 

He looked at her. "You, you scaramouch? Of course not! Whoever yearnedfor a thing like you? A long-legged, snub-nosed creature without anyfront teeth worth mentioning!"

"I have! You're horrid!" cried Tessa, stamping an indignant foot. "Isn'the horrid, Uncle St. Bernard? If it weren't for that darling mongoose, Ishould hate him!"

"Oh, but it's wrong to hate people, you know. " Bernard passed apacifying arm about her quivering form. "You just treat him to thecontempt he deserves, and give all your attention to your doting olduncle who has honestly been longing for you from the moment you lefthim!"

"Oh, darling!" She turned to him swiftly. "I'll never go away from youagain. I can say that now, can't I?"

Her red lips were lifted. He stooped and kissed them. "It's the onething I love to hear you say, my princess, " he said. 

The sun set in a glory of red and purple that night, spreading theroyal colours far across the calm sky. 

It faded very quickly. The night swooped down, swift and soundless, andin the verandah of the bungalow known as The Nest a red lamp glowed witha steady beam across the darkness. 

Two figures stood for a space under the acacia by the gate, lingering inthe evening quiet. Now and then there was the flutter of wings abovethem, and the white flowers fell and scattered like bridal blossoms allaround. 

"We must go in, " said Stella. "Peter will be disappointed if we keep thedinner waiting. "

"Ah! We mustn't hurt his august feelings, " conceded Everard. "We owe hima mighty lot, my Stella. I wish we could make some return. "

"His greatest reward is to let him serve us, " she answered. "His love isthe kind that needs to serve. "

"Which is the highest kind of love, " said Everard holding her to him. "Do you know--Hanani discovered that for me. "

She pressed close to his side. "Everard darling, why did you keep thatsecret so long?"

"My dear!" he said, and was silent. 

"Well, won't you tell me?" she urged. "I think you might. "

He hesitated a moment longer; then, "Don't let it hurt you, dear!" hesaid. "But--actually--I wasn't sure that you cared--until I was with youin the temple and saw you--weeping for me. "

"Oh, Everard!" she said. 

He folded her in his arms. "My darling, I thought I had killed yourlove; and even though I found then that I was wrong, I wasn't sure thatyou would ever forgive me for playing that last trick upon you. "

"Ah!" she whispered. "And if I--hadn't--forgiven--you?"

"I should have gone away, " he said. 

"You would have left me?" She pressed closer. 

"I should have come back to you sometimes, sweetheart, in some otherguise. I couldn't have kept away for ever. But I would never haveintruded upon you, " he said. 

"Everard! Everard!" She hid her face against him. "You make me feel soashamed--so utterly--unworthy. "

"Don't darling! Don't, " he whispered. "Let us be happy--to-night!"

"And I wanted you so! I missed you so!" she said brokenly. 

He turned her face up to his own. "I missed myself a bit, too, " he said. "I couldn't have played the Hanani game if Peter hadn't put me up to it. Darling, are those actually tears? Because I won't have them. You aregoing to look forward, not back. "

She clung to him closely, passionately. "Yes--yes. I will look forward. But, oh, Everard, promise me--promise me--you will never deceive meagain!"

"I don't believe I could, any more, " he said. 

"But promise!" she urged. 

"Very well, my dear one. I promise. There! Is that enough?" He kissedher quivering face, holding her clasped to his heart. "I will nevertrick you again as long as I live. But I had to be near you, and it wasthe only way. Now--am I quite forgiven?"

"Of course you are, " she told him tremulously. "It wasn't a matter forforgiveness. Besides--anyhow--you were justified. And, --Everard, --" herbreathing quickened a little; she just caught back a sob--"I love tothink--now--that your arms held our baby--when he died. "

"My darling! My own girl!" he said, and stopped abruptly, for his voicewas trembling too. 

The next moment very tenderly he kissed her again. 

"Please God he won't be the only one!" he said softly. 

"Amen!" she whispered back. 

In the acacia boughs above them the blue jay suddenly uttered a ripplinglaugh of sheer joy and flew away. 

THE END

GREATHEART

By Ethel M. Dell

There were two of them--as unlike as two men could be. Sir Eustace, big, domineering, haughty, used to sweeping all before him with the power ofhis personality. 

The other was Stumpy, small, insignificant, quiet, with a little limp. 

They clashed over the greatest question that may come to men--the loveof a girl. 

She took Sir Eustace just because she could not help herself--and wasswept ahead on the tide of his passion. 

And then, when she needed help most--on the day before thewedding--Stumpy saved her--and the quiet flame of his eyes was more thanthe brute power of his brother. 

How did it all come out? Did she choose wisely? Is Greatheart more to bedesired than great riches? The answer is the most vivid and charmingstory that Ethel M. Dell has written in a long time. 

 * * * * *

G. P. Putnam's Sons

New York London

The Hundredth Chance

By

Ethel M. Dell

Author of "The Way of an Eagle, " "The Knave of Diamonds, " "The Rocks ofValpré, " "The Keeper of the Door, " "Bars of Iron, " etc. 

12°. Color Frontispiece by Edna Crompton

The hero is a man of masterful force, of hard and rough exterior, whocan remake a human being with the assurance of success with which hebreaks a horse. Toward the heroine he is all love, patience, solicitude, but she sees in him only the brute and the master. To break down herhostility, and defeat unscrupulous craft which draws her relentlessly tothe verge of disaster, the hero can rely only on the weight of hispersonality and innate tenderness. It is the Hundredth Chance; on it hestakes all. 

 * * * * *

G. P. Putnam's Sons

New York London

Blue Aloes

By Cynthia Stockley

Author of "Poppy, " "The Claw, " "Wild Honey, " etc. 

No writer can so unfailingly summons and materialize the spirit of theweird, mysterious South Africa as can Cynthia Stockley. She is a favoredmedium through whom the great Dark Continent its tales unfolds. 

A strange story is this, of a Karoo farm, --a hedge of Blue Aloes, acactus of fantastic beauty, which shelters a myriad of creepingthings, --a whisper and a summons in the dead of the night, --an odor ofdeath and the old. 

There are three other stories in the book, stories throbbing with thesudden, intense passion and the mystic atmosphere of the Veldt. 

 * * * * *

G. P. Putnam's Sons

New York London

The Beloved Sinner

By

Rachel Swete Macnamara

Author of the "Fringe of the Desert, " "The Torch of Life, " and "DriftingWaters"

One of the very prettiest of springtime romances--a tale of exuberantyoung spirits intoxicated with the springtime of living, of love goneadventuring on the rough road--a story, humorous with the gay impudencesof a young Eve who is half-afraid and altogether delighted with herfairy-prince. 

G. P. Putnam's Sons

New York London