ovely
countenance that would never again be beholden by the people.

"'Never again!' The thought had scarce passed through my mind, as I
watched the scene from the fringe of the crowd, when a more grim and
terrible reality was given to the unspoken words than I had ever
intended. Close to the spot where the maharanee had halted were some
hangings of brocade arranged, as we understood later, so that the seated
and veiled figure of a woman might observe the brilliant pageantry of
the day from the privacy of this purdah.

"And from out these hangings there now stretched, stealthily but
swiftly, a bejewelled hand, which plunged a long dagger between the
shoulders of the queen mother.

"Without a cry she fell. I was quickly by her side, and the young
maharajah and myself, as we bent over her, caught her dying words.

"'All is well, my beloved son,' she murmured. 'I have accomplished that
which I was sent into the world to perform. In peace I yield my soul to
God.'

"With the last word she breathed her last breath. And such is mother
love."

There was a suppressed sob in more than one breast at the close of the
venerable hakeem's tale. Down his own furrowed face the tears were
streaming.

"And the woman who struck the foul blow?" inquired the Afghan in an
eager whisper.

"The slave mother of the dead pretender. Well, she too had given her all
for mother love. The tribesmen tore her limb from limb."

And the hakeem pressed a hand to his eyes to shut out the memory of a
dreadful scene.

VIII. THE SACRED PICKAXE

TOLD BY THE MAGISTRATE

The first wolf-grey of the dawn was creeping over the scene, and turning
to a sickly yellow the flare of the little oil lamps arranged around the
veranda. The morning air bit shrewdly, and more than one of the seated
or reclining figures had gathered his robes more closely around him. All
eyes were now turned on the kotwal. He alone of the company had not
contributed from his store of experiences.

"Methinks it is too late for any more story-telling," he protested
diffidently, with gesture and glance toward the east in token that he
spoke truly.

"Nay, nay," cried the Rajput, "this night will not be complete without
the full measure of our entertainment. Come, come, friend; the sun is
yet an hour below the horizon."

Murmurs of approval showed that the general wish had been interpreted.

"Be it so, then," assented the magistrate. "I have heard so many stories
this n