ad
drawn into hard lines, his lips were set tight in intensity across the
teeth so that they showed between in a thin line of white. The blood
seemed to have fascinated him; he was oblivious of her presence. She
heard him murmur, "Parvati, Parvati! There is blood, blood--wait,
thou, Parvati."

The bay Arabs--perhaps their sensitive nostrils drank in the smell of
fresh blood--sprang into their collars as if they would bolt in fright.
The two syces, squatting on their heels at the horses' heads, had
sprung to their feet, and now were caressing the necks of the Arabs as
they held them each with a hand by the bit.

There was a curious look in the Prince's eyes as he turned them on
Elizabeth; a mingling of questioning and defiance was in them.

Now the holder of the pitcher stood up and the _guru_ drew upon it four
red lines and dropped through its shattered mouth a woman's bracelet of
gold lacquer beads. Then the pitcher was placed upon the Kali shrine;
raw sugar was inclosed in a cloth and tied to a branch of the pipal.

The voice of the Bagree Chief, somewhat coarse in its fulness, its
independence, now was heard saying: "Sirdar Sahib, and Dewan Sahib, we
men of the nine castes of the Bagrees now make the sacred oath. Come
close that ye may observe."

Jean Baptiste edged his horse to the side of the road, and the Dewan,
heaving from the _palki_, stood upright.

Ajeet dipped a tapering finger in the pitcher of blood, touched the
swaying bag of sugar, and laying the hand against his forehead said, in
a loud voice:

"If I, Ajeet Singh, break faith with Maharaja Sindhia, may Bhowanee
punish me!"

Sookdee and Hunsa each in turn took the same solemn oath of allegiance.

As Hunsa turned from the ordeal and passed the Gulab Begum to where the
Bagrees stood in line, Nana Sahib said, "Do you know, General, what
that baboon-faced jamadar made oath to?"

"The last one, my Prince?"

"Yes, he of the splendid ugliness. He testified, 'If I fail to thrust
a knife between the shoulder-blades of Ajeet Singh may Bhowanee cast me
as a sacrifice.'"

"He is jamadar to the other, Prince--but why?"

"He looked upon the Rose Lady as he passed, and as the blooded finger
lay upon his forehead he looked upon Ajeet, and in his pig eyes was
unholiness."

The cold grey eyes of the Frenchman rested for a second upon the
burning black eyes of the speaker, and again he shivered. He knew that
the careless words meant that Hunsa was