strained look which only a
great sorrow can cause.

"I have been thinking it over, Desmond," he said as they sat in the
cabin, "and I can only conclude that this is one more of Peloti's
villainies. Good God! had he not done me and mine harm enough? Who else
would be so dead to all sense of right, of decency, as to seize upon two
helpless women? My brother was hanged, Desmond; hanging is too good for
that scoundrel; but we cannot touch him; he laughs at us; and I am
helpless--helpless!"

"Like you, sir, I have come to believe that you owe this terrible sorrow
to Diggle--I must always call him that. Don't give up heart, sir. What
his motive is, if he has indeed captured the ladies, I cannot tell. It
may be to use them as hostages in case he gets into trouble with us; it
is impossible to see into the black depths of his mind. But I believe the
ladies are safe, and, please God, I shall learn something about them and
maybe bring them back to you."

Desmond waited a couple of days in the hope of receiving a definite task
from Major Killpatrick. But that officer, while an excellent soldier, was
not fertile in expedients. The process of "turning things over in his
mind" did not furnish him with an inspiration.

He came on board the Hormuzzeer one afternoon, and confessed that he
didn't see how Desmond could possibly get up and down the river. Mr.
Merriman reminded him that in the early days of the stay at Fulta, Mr.
Robert Gregory had gone up with requests to the French and Dutch for
assistance. Under cover of a storm he passed Tanna and Calcutta unnoticed
by the Nawab's men.

"The French were very polite, but wouldn't move a finger for us," added
Mr. Merriman. "The Dutch were more neighborly, and sent us some
provisions--badly needed, I assure you. Mr. Gregory is still with them at
Chinsura."

"If he got through, why shouldn't I?" asked Desmond.

"My dear boy," said Killpatrick, "the river is narrowly watched. The
Moors know that Gregory outwitted them; sure no other Englishman could
repeat the trick. And if you were caught, there's no saying how Manik
Chand might serve you. He seems disposed to be friendly, to be sure: he's
made governor of Calcutta now, and wants to feel his feet. But he's a
weak man, by all accounts; and weak men, when they are afraid, are always
cruel. If he caught an Englishman spying out the land he'd most probably
treat him after oriental methods.

"In fact, the situation between him a