urteen miles away. He had
been a bheestee (water carrier) to the house of Ramabai up to the young
banker's incarceration. To him, then, he carried the news that a white
hunter had arrived outside the city--"Bruce Sahib has returned!"

Ramabai lost no time in taking this news to Kathlyn.

"Ramabai, I have saved your life; save mine. Go at once to him and tell
him that I am a prisoner but am called a queen; tell him I am Colonel
Hare's daughter, she who traveled with him on the same ship from Hongkong
to Singapore. Go! Tell him all, the death of my father and Umballa's
treachery. Hasten!"

Bruce was eating his simple evening meal when Ramabai arrived.

"Bruce Sahib?"

"Yes. Your face is familiar."

"You have been twice to my bank. I am Ramabai."

"I remember. But what are you doing here?"

"I have come for aid, Sahib, aid for a young woman, white like yourself."

"Then it is true? Go ahead and let me have all the facts. She is Hare
Sahib's daughter; Ali told me that. Precious rigmarole of some sort.
The facts!"

"She is also the young lady who traveled in the same boat from Hongkong
to Singapore." Ramabai paused to see the effect of this information.

Bruce lowered his fork slowly. The din about him dwindled away into
nothing. He was again leaning over the rail, watching the
phosphorescence trail away, a shoulder barely touching his: one of the
few women who had ever stirred him after the first glance. In God's
name, why hadn't she said something? Why hadn't she told him she was
Colonel Hare's daughter? How was he to know? (For Hare, queerly enough,
had never shown his young friend the photographs of his daughters.)
Perhaps he had been at fault; he, too, had scarcely stirred from his
shell. And where was that scoundrel Rao?

"I shall enter the city as soon as I can settle my bungalow. This rather
knocks me out."

"No, Sahib; don't wait: come back with me!" Quickly he outlined the
desperate straits in which Kathlyn stood. "To-morrow may be too late."

"Ali!" called Bruce, rising.

"Yes, Sahib."

"The Pasha. No questions. Give him water. Use the hunting howdah.
Both guns and plenty of cartridges. That's all." The young man ran into
his sleeping tent and presently came forth with a pair of ugly looking
Colts; for this was before the days of the convenient automatics. "All
aboard, Ramabai!" Bruce laughed; the sound was as hard and metallic as
the click of the cartridge belt as