Very good. I shall wait. The mahout here will
take you directly to Hare Sahib's bungalow. You will find your
father's servants there, and all will be well. A week, then. If you
do not send for me I seek Bruce Sahib, and we shall return with many.
Some will speak English at the bungalow."

"Thank you, Rao. I shall not forget."

"Neither will Bruce Sahib," mysteriously. Rao salaamed.

Kathlyn got into the howdah and passed through the gates. Bruce Sahib,
the quiet man whose hand had reached out over seas thus strangely to
reassure her! A hardness came into her throat and she swallowed
desperately. She was only twenty-four. Except for herself there might
not be a white person in all this sprawling, rugged principality. From
time to time the new mahout turned and smiled at her curiously, but she
was too absorbed to note his attentions.

Durga Ram, called lightly Umballa, went directly to the palace, where
he knew the Council of Three solemnly awaited his arrival. He dashed
up the imposing flight of marble steps, exultant. He had fulfilled his
promise; the golden daughter of Hare Sahib was but a few miles away.
The soldiers, guarding the entrance, presented their arms respectfully;
but instantly after Umballa disappeared the expression on their faces
was not pleasing.

Umballa hurried along through the deep corridor, supported by
exquisitely carved marble columns. Beauty in stone was in evidence
everywhere and magnificent brass lamps hung from the ceiling. There
was a shrine topped by an idol in black marble, incrusted with
sapphires and turquoises. Durga Ram, who shall be called Umballa,
nodded slightly as he passed it. Force of habit, since in his heart
there was only one religion--self.

He stopped at a door guarded by a single soldier, who saluted but spat
as soon as Umballa had passed into the throne room. The throne itself
was vacant. The Council of Three rose at the approach of Umballa.

"She is here," he said haughtily.

The council salaamed.

Umballa stroked his chin as he gazed at the huge candles flickering at
each side of the throne. He sniffed the Tibetan incense, and shrugged.
It was written. "Go," he said, "to Hare Sahib's bungalow and await me.
I shall be there presently. There is plenty of time. And remember our
four heads depend upon the next few hours. The soldiers are on the
verge of mutiny, and only success can pacify them."

He turned without ceremony and left them.