w her thin, cool fingers with a beseeching look, the meaning of
which he full well understood.

"The Commander-in-Chief and his staff reached the railway station,"
she continued; "they travelled to Delhi with the last train that left
Lahore, just at the eleventh hour; for immediately afterwards the
Russians entered the town. The wreck of the army is now marching to
Delhi, but their pursuers are close at their heels. God alone knows what
will be the fate of our poor defeated army."

He did not ask her where she had obtained all this information; but
that it was quite correct he was firmly convinced, judging by his own
experience. He did not know what to say to her to encourage her, he
who never had been able to toy with empty phrases. A short while they
remained silent, and their eyes simultaneously fell upon the sunlit
marble tomb before them.

"Have you seen this cenotaph before?" the young lady suddenly asked, to
Heideck's surprise. On his answering in the negative, she went on--

"This is the famous tomb of Anar Kali, the beloved wife of Sultan
Akbar, who, on account of her beauty, was given the name of 'Pomegranate
Blossom.' She probably departed this life in the same way that we should
have done if the daggers of the murderers yesterday had reached us. She,
perhaps, was just as little conscious of what was happening to her, as
we should have been in this past night."

"Can you read the inscription?" asked Heideck.

"No, but I have had it interpreted to me; for it is one of the most
famous inscriptions in India. The beautiful Anar Kali was once so
foolish as to smile when the son of her lord and master entered the
harem. And in the selfsame hour the jealous sultan had the unhappy woman
executed. But he must have loved her very dearly, for he erected to
her this beautiful memorial, which should hand down to generations yet
unborn the name of Anar Kali. So full of insoluble riddles is the poor,
foolish heart of man."

Jingling footsteps were heard on the flagstones outside, and the next
moment an officer appeared at the door accompanied by several soldiers.
In abrupt, peremptory tones he ordered Heideck to follow him.

Now, for the first time, the Captain saw in Edith Irwin's face something
like an expression of terror.

"What is the meaning of this?" She turned hastily to the Russian. "This
gentleman is not an Englishman."

The Russian did not understand the question in English; but when Heideck
asked in