" A few moments later Ramabai
addressed the assemblage. "Bala Khan is hostile, but only for the sake
of his friends. He lays down this law, however--obey it or disobey it.
The Colonel Sahib and his daughters are to go free, to do what they
please with the treasure. Pundita, according to the will of the late
king, shall be crowned."

The high priest held up his hand for silence. "We obey, on one
condition--that the new queen shall in no manner interfere with her old
religion nor attempt to force her new religion into the temple."

To this Pundita agreed.

"Ramabai, soldiers! To the house of Umballa! We shall find him
there," cried Ahmed.

Umballa squatted upon his cushions on the terrace. The second bar had
been removed. The beasts were pressing their wet nozzles to the
openings and growling deep challenges.

"Once more, and for the last time, will you reveal the hiding-place of
the treasure?"

Not a word from the prisoners.

"The third bar!"

But it did not stir.

"The third bar; remove it!"

The slave who had charge of the mechanism which operated the bars
refused to act.

The events which followed were of breathless rapidity. Ramabai and
Umballa met upon the parapet in a struggle which promised death or the
treadmill to the weaker. At the same time Bruce opened the door to the
Court of Death as the final bar dropped in the cage. At the sight of
him the colonel and his daughters rushed to the door. Roughly he
hurled them outside, slamming the iron door, upon which the infuriated
tigers flung themselves.

* * * * * *

The young newspaper man to whom Winnie was engaged and the grizzled
Ahmed sat on the steps of the bungalow in California one pleasant
afternoon. The pipe was cold in the hand of the reporter and Ahmed's
cigar was dead, which always happens when one recounts an exciting tale
and another listens. Among the flower beds beyond two young women
wandered, followed by a young man in pongee, a Panama set carelessly
upon his handsome head, his face brown, his build slender but round and
muscular.

"And that, Sahib, is the story," sighed Ahmed.

"And Kathlyn gave the treasures to the poor of Allaha? That was fine."

"You have said."

"They should have hanged this Umballa."

"No, Sahib. Death is grateful. It is not a punishment; it is peace.
But Durga Ram, called Umballa, will spend the remainder of his days in
the treadmill, which is a concret