Higher and higher the girl went, until those below judged her to be at least a hundred and fifty feet from the ground. Then the light died out, and she disappeared from their sight. There was silence for a minute or two, and then the end of the pole could be seen descending without her. Another minute, and it was reduced to the length it had been at starting.

The spectators were silent now; the whole thing was so strange and mysterious that they had no words to express their feeling.

The juggler said something which Mr. Hunter translated to be a request for all to resume their places.

"That is a wonderful trick," the Doctor said to Bathurst. "I have never seen it done that way before, but I once saw a juggler throw up a rope into the air; how high it went I don't know, for, like this, it was done at night, but it stood up perfectly stiff, and the juggler's attendant climbed up. He went higher and higher, and we could hear his voice coming down to us. At last it stopped, and then suddenly the rope fell in coils on the ground, and the boy walked quietly in, just as that girl has done now."

The girl now placed herself in the center of the open space.

"You will please not to speak while this trick is being performed," the juggler said; "harm might come of it. Watch the ground near her feet."

A minute later a dark object made its appearance from the ground. It rose higher and higher with an undulating movement.

"By Jove, it is a python!" the Doctor whispered in Bathurst's ear. A similar exclamation broke from several of the others, but the juggler waved his hand with an authoritative hush. The snake rose until its head towered above that of the girl, and then began to twine itself round her, continuously rising from the ground until it enveloped her with five coils, each thicker than a man's arm. It raised its head above hers and hissed loudly and angrily; then its tail began to descend, gradually the coils unwound themselves; lower and lower it descended until it disappeared altogether.

It was some time before anyone spoke, so great was the feeling of wonder. The Doctor was the first to break the silence.

"I have never seen that before," he said, "though I have heard of it from a native Rajah."

"Would the sahibs like to see more?" the juggler asked.

The two Miss Hunters, Mrs. Rintoul, and several of the others said they had seen enough, but among the men there was expressed a general wish to see another feat.

"I would not have missed this for anything," the Doctor said. "It would be simple madness to throw away such a chance."

The ladies, therefore, with the exception of Mrs. Hunter, Mrs. Doolan, and Isobel, retired into the house.

"You must all go on one side now," the juggler said, "for it is only on one side what I am now going to do can be seen."

He then proceeded to light a fire of charcoal. When he had done this, he said, "The lights must now be extinguished and the curtains drawn, so that the light will not stream out from the house."

As soon as this was done he poured a powder over the fire, and by its faint light the cloud of white smoke could be seen.

"Now I will show you the past," he said. "Who speaks?"

There was silence, and then Dr. Wade said, "Show me my past."

A faint light stole up over the smoke—it grew brighter and brighter; and then a picture was clearly seen upon it.

It was the sea, a house standing by itself in a garden, and separated from the water only by a road. Presently the figure of a girl appeared at the gate, and, stepping out, looked down the road as if waiting for someone. They could make out all the details of her dress and see her features distinctly. A low exclamation broke from the Doctor, then the picture gradually faded away.

"The future!" the juggler said, and gradually an Indian scene appeared on the smoke. It was a long, straight road, bordered by a jungle. A native was seen approaching; he paused in the foreground.

"That is you, Doctor!" Mr. Hunter exclaimed; "you are got up as a native, but it's you."

Almost at the same moment two figures came out from the jungle. They were also in native dress.

"You and Miss Hannay," the Doctor said in a low tone to Bathurst, "dressed like a native and dyed." But no one else detected the disguise, and the picture again faded away.

"That is enough, Rujub," Bathurst said, for he felt Isobel lean back heavily against the hand which he held at the back of her chair, and felt sure that she had fainted.

"Draw back the curtains, someone; I fancy this has been too much for Miss Hannay."

The curtains were thrown back, and Mrs. Hunter, running in, brought out a lamp. The Doctor had already taken his place by Isobel's side.

"Yes, she has fainted," he said to Bathurst; "carry her in her chair as she is, so that she may be in the room when she comes to."

This was done.

"Now, gentlemen," the Doctor said, "you had better light the lamps again out here, and leave the ladies and me to get Miss Hannay round."

When the lamps were lit it was evident that the whole of the men were a good deal shaken by what they had seen.

"Well," Mr. Hunter said, "they told me he was a famous juggler, but that beat anything I have seen before. I have heard of such things frequently from natives, but it is very seldom that Europeans get a chance of seeing them."

"I don't want to see anything of the sort again," Major Hannay said; "it shakes one's notions of things in general. I fancy, Hunter, that we shall want a strong peg all round to steady our nerves. I own that I feel as shaky as a boy who thinks he sees a ghost on his way through a churchyard."

There was a general murmur of agreement and the materials were quickly brought.

"Well, Wilson, what do you and Richards think of it?" the Major went on, after he had braced himself up with a strong glass of brandy and water. "I should imagine you both feel a little less skeptical than you did two hours ago."

"I don't know what Richards feels, Major, but I know I feel like a fool. I am sorry, Bathurst, for what I said at dinner; but it really didn't seem to me to be possible what you told us about the girl going up into the air and not coming down again. Well, after I have seen what I have seen this evening, I won't disbelieve anything I hear in future about these natives."

"It was natural enough that you should be incredulous," Bathurst said. "I should have been just as skeptical as you were when I first came out, and I have been astonished now, though I have seen some good jugglers before."

At this moment the Doctor came out again.

"Miss Hannay is all right again now, Major. I am not surprised at her fainting; old hand as I am at these matters, and I think that I have seen as much or more juggling than any man in India. I felt very queer myself, specially at the snake business. As I said, I have seen that ascension trick before, but how it is done I have no more idea than a child. Those smoke scenes, too, are astonishing. Of course they could be accounted for as thrown upon a column of white smoke by a magic lantern, but there was certainly no magic lantern here. The juggler was standing close to me, and the girl was sitting at his feet. I watched them both closely, and certainly they had no apparatus about them by which such views could be thrown on the smoke."

"You recognized the first scene, I suppose, Doctor?" Bathurst asked.

"Perfectly. It took me back twenty-five years. It was a cottage near Sidmouth, and was correct in every minute detail. The figure was that of the young lady I married four years afterwards. Many a time have I seen her standing just like that, as I went along the road to meet her from the little inn at which I was stopping; the very pattern of her dress, which I need hardly say has never been in my mind all these years, was recalled to me.

"Had I been thinking of the scene at the time I could have accounted for it somehow, upon the theory that in some way or other the juggler was conscious of my thought and reflected it upon the smoke—how, I don't at all mean to say; but undoubtedly there exists, to some extent, the power of thought reading. It is a mysterious subject, and one of which we know absolutely nothing at present, but maybe in upwards of a hundred years mankind will have discovered many secrets of nature in that direction. But I certainly was not thinking of that scene when I spoke and said the 'past.' I had no doubt that he would show me something of the past, but certainly no particular incident passed through my mind before that picture appeared on the smoke."

"The other was almost as curious, Doctor," Captain Doolan said, "for it was certainly you masquerading as a native. I believe the other was Bathurst; it struck me so; and he seemed to be running off with some native girl. What on earth could that all mean?"

"It is no use puzzling ourselves about it," the Doctor said. "It may or may not come true. I have no inclination to go about dressed out as a native at present, but there is no saying what I may come to. There is quite enough for us to wonder at in the other things. The mango and basket tricks I have seen a dozen times, and am no nearer now than I was at first to understanding them. That ascension trick beats me altogether, and there was something horribly uncanny about the snake."

"Do you think it was a real snake, Doctor?"

"That I cannot tell you, Richards. Every movement was perfectly natural. I could see the working of the ribs as it wound itself round the girl, and the quivering of its tongue as it raised its head above her. At any other time I should be ready to take my affidavit that it was a python of unusual size, but at the present moment I should not like to give a decided opinion about anything connected with the performance."

"I suppose it is no use asking the juggler any questions, Hunter?" one of the other men said.

"Not in the least; they never do answer questions. The higher class of jugglers treat their art as a sort of religious mystery, and there is no instance known of their opening their lips, although large sums have frequently been offered them. In the present case you will certainly ask no questions, for the man and girl have both disappeared with the box and apparatus and everything connected with them. They must have slipped off directly the last trick was over, and before we had the lamp lighted. I sent after him at once, but the servant could find no signs of him. I am annoyed because I have not paid them."

"I am not surprised at that," Dr. Wade said. "It is quite in accordance with what I have heard of them. They live by exhibiting what you may call their ordinary tricks; but I have heard from natives that when they show any what I may call supernatural feats, they do not take money. It is done to oblige some powerful Rajah, and as I have said, it is only on a very few occasions that Europeans have ever seen them. Well, we may as well go in to the ladies. I don't fancy any of them would be inclined to come out onto the veranda again this evening."

No one was indeed inclined even for talk, and in a very short time the party broke up and returned home.

"Come and smoke a pipe with me, Bathurst, before you turn in," the Doctor said, as they went out. "I don't think either of us will be likely to go to sleep for some time. What is your impression of all this?"

"My impression, certainly, is that it is entirely unaccountable by any laws with which we are acquainted, Doctor."

"That is just my idea, and always has been since I first saw any really good juggling out here. I don't believe in the least in anything supernatural, but I can quite believe that there are many natural laws of which at present we are entirely ignorant. I believe the knowledge of them at one time existed, but has been entirely lost, at any rate among Western peoples. The belief in magic is as old as anything we have knowledge of. The magicians at the court of Pharaoh threw down their rods and turned them into serpents. The Witch of Endor called up the spirit of Samuel. The Greeks, by no means a nation of fools, believed implicitly in the Oracles. Coming down to comparatively later times, the workers of magic burnt their books before St. Paul. It doesn't say, mind you, that those who pretended to work magic did so; but those who worked magic.

"Early travelers in Persia and India have reported things they saw far surpassing any we have witnessed this evening, and there is certainly a sect in India at present, or rather a body of men, and those, as far as I have been able to learn, of an exceptionally intelligent class, who believe that they possess an almost absolute mastery over the powers of nature. You see, fifty years back, if anyone had talked about traveling at fifty miles an hour, or sending a message five thousand miles in a minute, he would have been regarded as a madman. There may yet be other discoveries as startling to be made.

"When I was in England I heard something of a set of people in America who called themselves Spiritualists, some of whom—notably a young man named Home—claimed to have the power of raising themselves through the air. I am far from saying that such a power exists; it is of course contrary to what we know of the laws of nature, but should such a power exist it would account for the disappearance of the girl from the top of the pole. Highland second sight, carried somewhat farther, and united with the power of conveying the impressions to others, would account for the pictures on the smoke, that is, supposing them to be true, and personally I own that I expect they will prove to be true—unlikely as it may seem that you, I, and Miss Hannay will ever be going about in native attire."

By this time they had reached the Doctor's bungalow, and had comfortably seated themselves.

"There is one thing that flashed across me this evening," Bathurst said. "I told you, that first evening I met Miss Hannay, that I had a distinct knowledge of her face. You laughed at me at the time, and it certainly seemed absurd, but I was convinced I was not wrong. Now I know how it was; I told you at dinner today about the feat of the girl going up and not coming down again; but I did not tell you—for you can understand it is a thing that I should not care to talk much about—that he showed me a picture like those we saw tonight.

"It was a house standing in a courtyard, with a high wall round it. I did not particularly observe the house. It was of the ordinary native type, and might, for anything I know, be the house in the middle of this station used as a courthouse by Hunter, and for keeping stores, and so on. I don't say it was that; I did not notice it much. There was a breach in the outside wall, and round it there was a fierce fight going on. A party of officers and civilians were repelling the assault of a body of Sepoys. On the terraced roof of the house others were standing firing and looking on, and I think engaged in loading rifles were two or three women. One of them I particularly noticed; and, now I recall it, her face was that of Miss Hannay; of that I am absolutely certain."

"It is curious, lad," the Doctor said, after a pause; "and the picture, you see, has so far come true that you have made the acquaintance with one of the actors whom you did not previously know."

"I did not believe in the truth of it, Doctor, and I do not believe in it now. There was one feature in the fight which was, as I regret to know, impossible."

"And what was that, Bathurst?"

Bathurst was silent for a time.

"You are an old friend, Doctor, and you will understand my case, and make more allowances for it than most people would. When I first came out here I dare say you heard some sort of reports as to why I had left the army and had afterwards entered the Civil Service."

"There were some stupid rumors," the Doctor said, "that you had gone home on sick leave just after the battle of Chillianwalla, and had then sold out, because you had shown the white feather. I need not say that I did not give any credit to it; there is always gossip flying about as to the reasons a man leaves the army."

"It was quite true, Doctor. It is a hideous thing to say, but constitutionally I am a coward."

"I cannot believe it," the Doctor said warmly. "Now that I know you, you are the last man of whom I would credit such a thing."

"It is the bane of my life," Bathurst went on. "It is my misfortune, for I will not allow it is my fault. In many things I am not a coward. I think I could face any danger if the danger were a silent one, but I cannot stand noise. The report of a gun makes me tremble all over, even when it is a blank cartridge that is fired. When I was born my father was in India. A short time before I came into the world my mother had a great fright. Her house in the country was broken into by burglars, who entered the room and threatened to blow out her brains if she moved; but the alarm was given, the men servants came down armed, there was a struggle in her room, pistol shots were fired, and the burglars were overpowered and captured. My mother fainted and was ill for weeks afterwards—in fact, until the time I was born; and she died a few days later, never having, the doctor said, recovered from the shock she had suffered that night.

"I grew up a weakly, timid boy—the sort of boy that is always bullied at school. My father, as you know, was a general officer, and did not return home until I was ten years old. He was naturally much disappointed in me, and I think that added to my timidity, for it grew upon me rather than otherwise. Morally, I was not a coward. At school I can say that I never told a lie to avoid punishment, and my readiness to speak the truth did not add to my popularity among the other boys, and I used to be called a sneak, which was even more hateful than being called a coward.

"As I grew up I shook off my delicacy, and grew, as you see, into a strong man. I then fought several battles at school; I learnt to ride, and came to have confidence in myself, and though I had no particular fancy for the army my father's heart was so set on it that I offered no objection. That the sound of a gun was abhorrent to me I knew, for the first time my father put a gun in my hand and I fired it, I fainted, and nothing would persuade me to try again. Still I thought that this was the result of nervousness as to firing it myself, and that I should get over it in time.

"A month or two after I was gazetted I went out to India with the regiment, and arrived just in time to get up by forced marches to take part in the battle of Chillianwalla. The consequence was that up to that time I literally had heard no musketry practice.

"Of the events of that battle I have no remembrance whatever; from the moment the first gun was fired to the end of the day I was as one paralyzed. I saw nothing, I heard nothing, I moved mechanically; but happily my will or my instinct kept me in my place in the regiment. When all was over, and silence followed the din, I fell to the ground insensible. Happily for me the doctors declared I was in a state of high fever, and I so remained for a fortnight. As soon as I got better I was sent down the country, and I at once sent in my papers and went home. No doubt the affair was talked of, and there were whispers as to the real cause of my illness. My father was terribly angry when I returned home and told him the truth of the matter. That his son should be a coward was naturally an awful blow to him. Home was too unhappy to be endured, and when an uncle of mine, who was a director on the Company's Board, offered me a berth in the Civil Service, I thankfully accepted it, believing that in that capacity I need never hear a gun fired again.

"You will understand, then, the anxiety I am feeling owing to these rumors of disaffection among the Sepoys, and the possibility of anything like a general mutiny.

"It is not of being killed that I have any fear; upon the contrary, I have suffered so much in the last eight years from the consciousness that the reason why I left the army was widely known, that I should welcome death, if it came to me noiselessly; but the thought that if there is trouble I shall assuredly not be able to play my part like a man fills me with absolute horror, and now more than ever.

"So you will understand now why the picture I saw, in which I was fighting in the middle of the Sepoys, is to me not only improbable, but simply impossible. It is a horrible story to have to tell. This is the first time I have opened my lips on the subject since I spoke to my father, but I know that you, both as a friend and a doctor, will pity rather than blame me."



CHAPTER X.

As Bathurst brought his story to its conclusion the Doctor rose and placed his hand kindly on his shoulder.

"I certainly should not think of blaming you, Bathurst. What you tell me is indeed a terrible misfortune, situated as we may be soon, though I trust and believe that all this talk about the Sepoys is moonshine. I own that I am surprised at your story, for I should have said from my knowledge of you that though, as I could perceive, of a nervous temperament, you were likely to be cool and collected in danger. But certainly your failing is no fault of your own."

"That is but a small consolation to me, Doctor. Men do not ask why and wherefore—they simply point the finger of scorn at a coward. The misfortune is that I am here. I might have lived a hundred lives in England and never once had occasion to face danger, and I thought that I should have been equally secure as an Indian civilian. Now this trouble is coming upon us."

"Why don't you take your leave, lad? You have been out seven years now without a day's relaxation, except indeed, the three days you were over with me at Cawnpore. Why not apply for a year's leave? You have a good excuse, too; you did not go home at the death of your father, two years ago, and could very well plead urgent family affairs requiring your presence in England."

"No, I will not do that, Doctor; I will not run away from danger again. You understand me, I have not the least fear of the danger; I in no way hold to my life; I do not think I am afraid of physical pain. It seems to me that I could undertake any desperate service; I dread it simply because I know that when the din of battle begins my body will overmaster my mind, and that I shall be as I was at Chillianwalla, completely paralyzed. You wondered tonight why that juggler should have exhibited feats seldom, almost never, shown to Europeans? He did it to please me. I saved his daughter's life—this is between ourselves, Doctor, and is not to go farther. But, riding in from Narkeet, I heard a cry, and, hurrying on, came upon that man eater you shot the other day, standing over the girl, with her father half beside himself, gesticulating in front of him. I jumped off and attacked the brute with my heavy hunting whip, and he was so completely astonished that he turned tail and bolted."

"The deuce he did," the Doctor exclaimed; "and yet you talk of being a coward!"

"No, I do not say that I am a coward generally; as long as I have to confront danger without noise I believe I could do as well as most men."

"But why didn't you mention this business with the tiger, Bathurst?"

"Because, in the first place, it was the work of a mere passing impulse; and in the second, because I should have gained credit for being what I am not—a brave man. It will be bad enough when the truth becomes known, but it would be all the worse if I had been trading on a false reputation; therefore I particularly charged Rujub to say nothing about the affair to anyone."

"Well, putting this for a time aside, Bathurst, what do you think of that curious scene, you and I and Miss Hannay disguised as natives?"

"Taking it with the one I saw of the attack of Sepoys upon a house, it looks to me, Doctor, as if there would be a mutiny, and that that mutiny would be attended with partial success, that a portion of the garrison, at any rate, will escape, and that Miss Hannay will be traveling down the country, perhaps to Cawnpore, in your charge, while I in some way shall be with you, perhaps acting as guide."

"It may possibly be so," the Doctor agreed. "It is at any rate very curious. I wonder whether Miss Hannay recognized herself in the disguise."

"I should hope not, Doctor; if it all comes true there will be enough for her to bear without looking forward to that. I should be glad if the detachment were ordered back to Cawnpore."

"Well, I should not have thought that, Bathurst."

"I know what you mean, Doctor, but it is for that reason I wish they were gone. I believe now that you insisted on my coming down to spend those three days with you at Cawnpore specially that I might meet her."

"That is so, Bathurst. I like her so much that I should be very sorry to see her throw herself away upon some empty headed fool. I like her greatly, and I was convinced that you were just the man to make her happy, and as I knew that you had good prospects in England, I thought it would be a capital match for her, although you are but a young civilian; and I own that of late I have thought things were going on very well."

"Perhaps it might have been so, Doctor, had it not been for this coming trouble, which, if our fears are realized, will entirely put an end even to the possibility of what you are talking about. I shall be shown to be a coward, and I shall do my best to put myself in the way of being killed. I should not like to blow my brains out, but if the worst comes to the worst I will do that rather than go on living after I have again disgraced myself."

"You look at it too seriously, Bathurst."

"Not a bit of it, Doctor, and you know it."

"But if the Sepoys rise, Bathurst, why should they harm their officers? They may be discontented, they may have a grievance against the Government, they may refuse to obey orders and may disband; but why on earth should they attack men who have always been kind to them, whom they have followed in battle, and against whom they have not as much as a shadow of complaint?"

"I hope it may be so most sincerely," Bathurst said; "but one never can say. I can hardly bring myself to believe that they will attack the officers, much less injure women and children. Still, I have a most uneasy foreboding of evil."

"You have heard nothing from the natives as to any coming trouble?"

"Nothing at all, Doctor, and I am convinced that nothing is known among them, or at any rate by the great bulk of them. Only one person has ever said a word to me that could indicate a knowledge of coming trouble, and that was this juggler we saw tonight. I thought nothing of his words at the time. That picture he showed me of the attack by Sepoys first gave me an idea that his words might mean something. Since then we have heard much more of this discontent, and I am convinced now that the words had a meaning. They were simple enough. It was merely his assurance, two or three times repeated, that he would be ready to repay the service I had rendered him with his life. It might have been a mere phrase, and so I thought at the time. But I think now he had before him the possibility of some event occurring in which he might be able to repay the service I had rendered him."

"There may have been something in it and there may not," the Doctor said; "but, at any rate, Bathurst, he ought to be a potent ally. There doesn't seem any limit to his powers, and he might, for aught one knows, be able to convey you away as he did his daughter."

The Doctor spoke lightly, and then added, "But seriously, the man might be of service. These jugglers go among people of all classes. They are like the troubadours of the Middle Ages, welcomed everywhere; and they no doubt have every opportunity of learning what is going on, and it may be that he will be able to give you timely warning should there be any trouble at hand."

"That is possible enough," Bathurst agreed. "Well, Doctor, I shall be on horseback at six, so it is time for me to turn in," and taking his hat, walked across to his own bungalow.

The Doctor sat for some time smoking before he turned into bed. He had as he had said, heard rumors, when Bathurst first came out, that he had shown the white feather, but he had paid little attention to it at the time. They had been together at the first station to which Bathurst was appointed when he came out, and he had come to like him greatly; but his evident disinclination to join in any society, his absorption in his work, and a certain air of gravity unnatural in a young man of twenty, had puzzled him. He had at the time come to the conclusion that he must have had some unfortunate love affair, or have got into some very serious trouble at home. In time that impression had worn off. A young man speedily recovers from such a blow, however heavy, but no change had taken place in Bathurst, and the Doctor had in time become so accustomed to his manner that he had ceased to wonder over it. Now it was all explained. He sat thinking over it deeply for an hour, and then laid down his pipe.

"It is a terrible pity he came out here," he said. "Of course it is not his fault in the slightest degree. One might as well blame a man for being born a hunchback; but if there should be a row out here it will be terrible for him. I can quite understand his feeling about it. If I were placed as he is, and were called upon to fight, I should take a dose of prussic acid at once. Men talk: about their civilization, but we are little better than savages in our instincts. Courage is an almost useless virtue in a civilized community, but if it is called for, we despise a man in whom it is wanting, just as heartily as our tattooed ancestors did. Of course, in him it is a purely constitutional failing, and I have no doubt he would be as brave as a lion in any other circumstances—in fact, the incident of his attacking the tiger with that dog whip of his shows that he is so; and yet, if he should fail when the lives of women are at stake it would be a kindness to give him that dose of prussic acid, especially as Isobel Hannay will be here. That is the hardest part of it to him, I can see."

Three days later the force at Deennugghur was increased by the arrival of a troop of native cavalry, under a Captain Forster, who had just returned from leave in England.

"Do you know Captain Forster, Doctor?" Isobel Hannay asked, on the afternoon of his arrival. "Uncle tells me he is coming to dinner."

"Then you must look after your heart, my dear. He is one of the best looking fellows out here, a dashing soldier, and a devoted servant of the fair sex."

"You don't like him, Doctor," Isobel said quietly.

"I have not said so, my dear—far from it. I think I said a good deal for him."

"Yes, but you don't like him, Doctor. Why is that?"

"I suppose because he is not my sort of man," the Doctor said. "I have not seen him since his regiment and ours were at Delhi together, and we did not see much of each other then. Our tastes did not lie in the same direction."

"Well, I know what your tastes are, Doctor; what are his?"

"I will leave you to find out, my dear. He is all I told you—a very handsome man, with, as is perhaps natural, a very good opinion of himself, and he distinguished himself more than once in the Punjaub by acts of personal gallantry. I have no doubt he thinks it an awful nuisance coming to a quiet little station like this, and he will probably try to while away his time by making himself very agreeable to you. But I don't think you need quite believe all that he says."

"I have long ago got over the weakness of believing people's flattery, Doctor. However, now you have forewarned me I am forearmed."

The Doctor hesitated, and then said gravely, "It is not my habit to speak ill of people, my dear. You do me the justice to believe that?"

"I am sure it is not, Doctor."

"Well, child, in a station like this you must see a good deal of this man. He is a man who has won many hearts, and thrown them away. Don't let him win yours. He is not a good man; he has been mixed up in several grave scandals; he has been the ruin of more than one young man at cards and billiards; he is in all respects a dangerous man. Anatomically I suppose he has a heart, morally he has not a vestige of one. Whatever you do, child, don't let him make you like him."

"I don't think there is much fear of that, Doctor, after what you have said," she replied, with a quiet smile; "and I am obliged to you indeed for warning me."

"I know I am an old fool for meddling, but you know, my dear, I feel a sort of personal relationship to you, after your having been in my charge for six months. I don't know a single man in all India whom I would not rather see you fall in love with than with Captain Forster."

"I thought uncle did not seem particularly pleased: when he came in to tiffin, and said there was a new arrival."

"I should think not," the Doctor said; "the man in notoriously a dangerous fellow; and yet, as he has never actually outstepped what are considered the bounds which constitute an officer and a gentleman, he has retained his commission, but it has been a pretty close shave once or twice. Your uncle must know all about him, everyone does; but I don't suppose the Major will open his mouth to you on the subject—he is one of those chivalrous sort of men who never thinks evil of anyone unless he is absolutely obliged to; but in a case like this I think he is wrong. At any rate, I have done what I consider to be my duty in the matter. Now I leave it in your hands. I am glad to see that you are looking quite yourself again, and have got over your fainting fit of the other night. I quite expected to be sent for professionally the next morning."

"Oh, yes, I have quite got over it, Doctor; I can't make out how I was so silly as to faint. I never did such a thing before, but it was so strange and mysterious that I felt quite bewildered, and the picture quite frightened me, but I don't know why. This is the first chance I have had since of speaking to you alone. What do you think of it, and why should you be dressed up as a native? and why should?" She stopped with a heightened color on her cheeks.

"You and Bathurst be dressed up, too? So you noticed your own likeness; nobody else but Bathurst and myself recognized the two figures that came out of the wood."

"Oh, you saw it too, Doctor. I thought I might have been mistaken, for, besides being stained, the face was all obscured somehow. Neither uncle, nor Mrs. Hunter, nor the girls, nor anyone else I have spoken to seem to have had an idea it was me, though they all recognized you.. What could it mean?"

"I. have not the slightest idea in the world," the Doctor said; "very likely it meant nothing. I certainly should not think any more about it. These jugglers' tricks are curious and unaccountable; but it is no use our worrying ourselves about them. Maybe we are all going to get up private theatricals some day, and perform an Indian drama. I have never taken any part in tomfooleries of that sort so far, but there is no saying what I may come to."

"Are you going to dine here, Doctor?"

"No, my dear; the Major asked me to come in, but I declined. I told him frankly that I did not like Forster, and that the less I saw of him the better I should be pleased."

The other guests turned out to be Captain and Mrs. Doolan and Mr. Congreave, one of the civilians at the station. The Doolans arrived first.

"You have not seen Captain Forster yet, Isobel," Mrs. Doolan said, as they sat down for a chat together. "I met him at Delhi soon after I came out. He is quite my beau ideal of a soldier in appearance, but I don't think he is nice, Isobel. I have heard all sorts of stories about him."

"Is that meant as a warning for me, Mrs. Doolan?" Isobel asked, smiling.

"Well, yes, I think it is, if you don't mind my giving you one. There are some men one can flirt with as much as one likes, and there are some men one can't; he is one of that sort. Privately, my dear, I don't mind telling you that at one time I did flirt with him—I had been accustomed to flirt in Ireland; we all flirt there, and mean nothing by it; but I had to give it up very suddenly. It wouldn't do, my dear, at all; his ideas of flirtation differed utterly from mine. I found I was playing with fire, and was fortunate in getting off without singeing my wings, which is more than a good many others would have done."

"He must be a horrid sort of man," Isobel said indignantly.

Mrs. Doolan laughed. "I don't think you will find him so; certainly that is not the general opinion of women. However, you will see him for yourself in a very few minutes."

Isobel looked up with some curiosity when Captain Forster was announced, and at once admitted to herself that the Doctor's report as to his personal appearance was fully justified. He stood over six feet high, with a powerful frame, and an easy careless bearing; his hair was cut rather close, he wore a long tawny mustache, his eyes were dark, his teeth very white and perfect. A momentary look of surprise came across his face as his eyes fell on Isobel.

"I had hardly expected," he said, as the Major introduced him to her, "to find no less than three unmarried ladies at Deennugghur. I had the pleasure of being introduced to the Miss Hunters this afternoon. How do you do, Mrs. Doolan? I think it is four years since I had the pleasure of knowing you in Delhi."

"I believe that is the number, Captain Forster."

"It seems a very long time to me," he said.

"I thought you would say that," she laughed. "It was quite the proper thing to say, Captain Forster; but I have no doubt it does seem longer to you than it does to me as you have been home since."

"We are all here," the Major broke in. "Captain Forster, will you take my niece in?"

"I suppose you find this very dull after Cawnpore, Miss Hannay?" Captain Forster asked.

"Indeed I do not," Isobel said. "I like it better here; everything is sociable and pleasant, while at Cawnpore there was much more formality. Of course, there were lots of dinner parties, but I don't care for large dinner parties at all; it is so hot, and they last such a time. I think six is quite large enough. Then there is a general talk, and everyone can join in just as much as they like, while at a large dinner you have to rely entirely upon one person, and I think it is very hard work having to talk for an hour and a half to a stranger of whom you know nothing. Don't you agree with me?"

"Entirely, Miss Hannay; I am a pretty good hand at talking, but at times I have found it very hard work, I can assure you, especially when you take down a stranger to the station, so that you have no mutual acquaintance to pull to pieces."

The dinner was bright and pleasant, and when the evening was over Isobel said to her uncle, "I think Captain Forster is very amusing, uncle."

"Yes," the Major agreed, "he is a good talker, a regular society man; he is no great favorite of mine; I think he will be a little too much for us in a small station like this."

"How do you mean too much, uncle?"

The Major hesitated.

"Well, he won't have much to do with his troop of horse, and time will hang heavy on his hands."

"Well, there is shooting, uncle."

"Yes, there is shooting, but I don't think that is much in his line. Tiffins and calls, and society generally occupy most of his time, I fancy, and I think he is fonder of billiards and cards than is good for him or others. Of course, being here by himself, as he is, we must do our best to be civil to him, and that sort of thing, but if we were at Cawnpore he is a man I should not care about being intimate in the house."

"I understand, uncle; but certainly he is pleasant."

"Oh, yes, he is very pleasant," the Major said dryly, in a tone that seemed to express that Forster's power of making himself pleasant was by no means a recommendation in his eyes.

But Captain Forster had apparently no idea whatever that his society could be anything but welcome, and called the next day after luncheon.

"I have been leaving my pasteboard at all the residents," he said; "not a very large circle. Of course, I knew Mrs. Rintoul at Delhi, as well as Mrs. Doolan. I did not know any of the others. They seem pleasant people."

"They are very pleasant," Isobel said.

"I left one for a man named Bathurst. He was out. Is that the Bathurst, Major Hannay, who was in a line regiment—I forget its number—and left very suddenly in the middle of the fighting in the Punjaub?"

"Yes; I believe Bathurst was in the army about that time," the Major said; "but I don't know anything about the circumstances of his leaving."

Had Captain Forster known the Major better he would have been aware that what he meant to say was that he did not wish to know, but he did not detect the inflection of his voice, and went on—"They say he showed the white feather. If it is the same man, I was at school with him, and unless he has improved since then, I am sure I have no wish to renew his acquaintance."

"I like him very much," the Major said shortly; "he is great friends with Dr. Wade, who has the very highest opinion of him, and I believe he is generally considered to be one of the most rising young officers of his grade."

"Oh, I have nothing to say against him," Captain Forster said; "but he was a poor creature at school, and I do not think that there was any love lost between us. Did you know him before you came here?"

"I only met him at the last races in Cawnpore," the Major said; "he was stopping with the Doctor."

"Quite a character, Wade."

Isobel's tongue was untied now.

"I think he is one of the kindest and best gentlemen I ever met," the girl said hotly; "he took care of me coming out here, and no one could have been kinder than he was."

"I have no doubt he is all that," Captain Forster said gently; "still he is a character, Miss Hannay, taking the term character to mean a person who differs widely from other people. I believe he is very skillful in his profession, but I take it he is a sort of Abernethy, and tells the most startling truths to his patients."

"That I can quite imagine," Isobel said; "the Doctor hates humbug of all sorts, and I don't think I should like to call him in myself for an imaginary ailment."

"I rather put my foot in it there," Captain Forster said to himself, as he sauntered back to his tent. "The Major didn't like my saying anything against Bathurst, and the girl did not like my remark about the Doctor. I wonder whether she objected also to what I said about that fellow Bathurst—a sneaking little hound he was, and there is no doubt about his showing the white feather in the Punjaub. However, I don't think that young lady is of the sort to care about a coward, and if she asks any questions, as I dare say she will, after what I have said, she will find that the story is a true one. What a pretty little thing she is! I did not see a prettier face all the time I was at home. What with her and Mrs. Doolan, time is not likely to hang so heavily here as I had expected."

The Major, afraid that Isobel might ask him some questions about this story of Bathurst leaving the army, went off hastily as soon as Captain Forster had left. Isobel sat impatiently tapping the floor with her foot, awaiting the Doctor, who usually came for half an hour's chat in the afternoon.

"Well, child, how did your dinner go off yesterday, and what did you think of your new visitor? I saw him come away from here half an hour ago. I suppose he has been calling."

"I don't like him at all," Isobel said decidedly.

"No? Well, then, you are an exception to the general rule."

"I thought him pleasant enough last night," Isobel said frankly. "He has a deferential sort of way about him when he speaks to one that one can hardly help liking. But he made me angry today. In the first place, Doctor, he said you were a character."

The Doctor chuckled. "Well, that is true enough, my dear. There was no harm in that."

"And then he said"—and she broke off—"he said what I feel sure cannot be true. He said that Mr. Bathurst left the army because he showed the white feather. It is not true, is it? I am sure it can't be true."

The Doctor did not reply immediately.

"It is an old story," he said presently, "and ought not to have been brought up again. I don't suppose Forster or anyone else knows the rights of the case. When a man leaves his regiment and retires when it is upon active service, there are sure to be spiteful stories getting about, often without the slightest foundation. But even if it had been true, it would hardly be to Bathurst's disadvantage now he is no longer in the army, and courage is not a vital necessity on the part of a civilian."

"You can't mean that, Doctor; surely every man ought to be brave. Could anyone possibly respect a man who is a coward? I don't believe it, Doctor, for a moment."

"Courage, my dear, is not a universal endowment—it is a physical as much as a moral virtue. Some people are physically brave and morally cowards; others are exactly the reverse. Some people are constitutionally cowards all round, while in others cowardice shows itself only partially. I have known a man who is as brave as a lion in battle, but is terrified by a rat. I have known a man brave in other respects lose his nerve altogether in a thunderstorm. In neither of these cases was it the man's own fault; it was constitutional, and by no effort could he conquer it. I consider Bathurst to be an exceptionally noble character. I am sure that he is capable of acts of great bravery in some directions, but it is possible that he is, like the man I have spoken of, constitutionally weak in others."

"But the great thing is to be brave in battle, Doctor! You would not call a man a coward simply because he was afraid of a rat, but you would call a man a coward who was afraid in battle. To be a coward there seems to me to be a coward all round. I have always thought the one virtue in man I really envied was bravery, and that a coward was the most despicable creature living. It might not be his actual fault, but one can't help that. It is not anyone's fault if he is fearfully ugly or born an idiot, for example. But cowardice seems somehow different. Not to be brave when he is strong seems to put a man below the level of a woman. I feel sure, Doctor, there must be some mistake, and that this story cannot be true. I have seen a good deal of Mr. Bathurst since we have been here, and you have always spoken so well of him, he is the last man I should have thought would be—would be like that."

"I know the circumstances of the case, child. You can trust me when I say that there is nothing in Bathurst's conduct that diminishes my respect for him in the slightest degree, and that in some respects he is as brave a man as any I know."

"Yes, Doctor, all that may be; but you do not answer my question. Did Mr. Bathurst leave the army because he showed cowardice? If he did, and you know it, why did you invite him here? why did you always praise him? why did you not say, 'In other respects this man may be good and estimable, but he is that most despicable thing, a coward'?"

There was such a passion of pain in her voice and face that the Doctor only said quietly, "I did not know it, my dear, or I should have told you at first that in this one point he was wanting. It is, I consider, the duty of those who know things to speak out. But he is certainly not what you say."

Isobel tossed her head impatiently. "We need not discuss it, Doctor. It is nothing to me whether Mr. Bathurst is brave or not, only it is not quite pleasant to learn that you have been getting on friendly terms with a man who—"

"Don't say any more," the Doctor broke in. "You might at least remember he is a friend of mine. There is no occasion for us to quarrel, my dear, and to prevent the possibility of such a thing I will be off at once."

After he had left Isobel sat down to think over what had been said. He had not directly answered her questions, but he had not denied that the rumor that Bathurst had retired from the army because he was wanting in courage was well founded. Everything he had said, in fact, was an excuse rather than a denial. The Doctor was as stanch a friend as he was bitter an opponent. Could he have denied it he would have done so strongly and indignantly.

It was clear that, much as he liked Bathurst, he believed him wanting in physical courage. He had said, indeed, that he believed he was brave in some respects, and had asserted that he knew of one exceptional act of courage that he had performed; but what was that if a man had had to leave the army because he was a coward? To Isobel it seemed that of all things it was most dreadful that a man should be wanting in courage. Tales of daring and bravery had always been her special delight, and, being full of life and spirit herself, it had not seemed even possible to her that a gentleman could be a coward, and that Bathurst could be so was to her well nigh incredible.

It might, as the Doctor had urged, be in no way his fault, but this did not affect the fact. He might be more to be pitied than to be blamed; but pity of that kind, so far from being akin to love, was destructive of it.

Unconsciously she had raised Bathurst on a lofty pinnacle. The Doctor had spoken very highly of him. She had admired the energy with which, instead of caring, as others did, for pleasure, he devoted himself to his work. Older men than himself listened to his opinions. His quiet and somewhat restrained manner was in contrast to the careless fun and good humor of most of those with whom she came in contact. It had seemed to her that he was a strong man, one who could be relied upon implicitly at all times, and she had come in the few weeks she had been at Deennugghur to rely upon his opinion, and to look forward to his visits, and even to acknowledge to herself that he approached her ideal of what a man should be more than anyone else she had met.

And now this was all shattered at a blow. He was wanting in man's first attribute. He had left the army, if not in disgrace, at least under a cloud and even his warm friend, the Doctor, could not deny that the accusation of cowardice was well founded. The pain of the discovery opened her eyes to the fact which she had not before, even remotely, admitted to herself, that she was beginning to love him, and the discovery was a bitter one.

"I may thank Captain Forster for that, at least," she said to herself, as she angrily wiped a tear from her cheek; "he has opened my eyes in time. What should I have felt if I had found too late that I had come to love a man who was a coward—who had left the army because he was afraid? I should have despised myself as much as I should despise him. Well, that is my first lesson. I shall not trust in appearances again. Why, I would rather marry a man like Captain Forster, even if everything they say about him is true, than a man who is a coward. At least he is brave, and has shown himself so."

The Doctor had gone away in a state of extreme irritation.

"Confound the meddling scoundrel!" he said to himself, as he surprised the horse with a sharp cut of the whip. "Just when things were going on as I wished. I had quite set my mind on it, and though I am sure Bathurst would never have spoken to her till he had told her himself about that unfortunate failing of his, it would have been altogether different coming from his own lips just as he told it to me. Of course, my lips were sealed and I could not put the case in the right light. I would give three months' pay for the satisfaction of horsewhipping that fellow Forster. Still, I can't say he did it maliciously, for he could not have known Bathurst was intimate there, or that there was anything between them. The question is, am I to tell Bathurst that she has heard about it? I suppose I had better. Ah, here is the Major," and he drew up his horse.

"Anything new, Major? You look put out."

"Yes, there is very bad news, Doctor. A Sowar has just brought a letter to me from the Colonel saying that the General has got a telegram that the 19th Native Infantry at Berhampore have refused to use the cartridges served out to them, and that yesterday a Sepoy of the 34th at Barrackpore raised seditious cries in front of the lines, and when Baugh, the adjutant, and the sergeant major attempted to seize him he wounded them both, while the regiment stood by and refused to aid them. The 19th are to be disbanded, and no doubt the 34th will be, too."

"That is bad news indeed, Major, and looks as if this talk about general disaffection were true. Had there been trouble but at one station it might have been the effect of some local grievance, but happening at two places, it looks as if it were part of a general plot. Well, we must hope it will go no farther."

"It is very bad," said the Major, "but at any rate we may hope we shall have no troubles here; the regiment has always behaved well, and I am sure they have no reason to complain of their treatment. If the Colonel has a fault, it is that of over leniency with the men."

"That is so," the Doctor agreed; "but the fact is, Major, we know really very little about the Hindoo mind. We can say with some sort of certainty what Europeans will do under given circumstances, but though I know the natives, I think, pretty nearly as well as most men, I feel that I really know nothing about them. They appear mild and submissive, and have certainly proved faithful on a hundred battlefields, but we don't know whether that is their real character. Their own history, before we stepped in and altered its current, shows them as faithless, bloodthirsty and cruel; whether they have changed their nature under our rule, or simply disguised it, Heaven only knows."

"At any rate," the Major said, "they have always shown themselves attached to their English officers. There are numberless instances where they have displayed the utmost devotion for them, and although some scheming intriguers may have sown the seeds of discontent among them, and these lies about the cartridges may have excited their religious prejudices, and may even lead them to mutiny, I cannot believe for an instant that the Sepoys will lift their hands against their officers."

"I hope not," the Doctor said gravely. "A tiger's cub, when tamed, is one of the prettiest of playthings, but when it once tastes blood it is as savage a beast as its mother was before it. Of course, I hope for the best, but if the Sepoys once break loose I would not answer for anything they might do. They have been pretty well spoilt, Major, till they have come to believe that it is they who conquered India and not we."



CHAPTER XI.

That evening, after dining alone, the Doctor went in to Bathurst's. The latter had already heard the news, and they talked it over for some time. Then the Doctor said, "Have you seen Forster, Bathurst, since he arrived?"

"No, I was out when he left his card. I was at school with him.. I heard when I was in England that he was out here in the native cavalry, but I have never run across him before, and I own I had no wish to do so. He was about two years older than I was, and was considered the cock of the school. He was one of my chief tormentors. I don't know that he was a bully generally—fellows who are really plucky seldom are; but he disliked me heartily, and I hated him.

"I had the habit of telling the truth when questioned, and he narrowly escaped expulsion owing to my refusing to tell a lie about his being quietly in bed when, in fact, he and two or three other fellows had been out at a public house. He never forgave me for it, for he himself would have told a lie without hesitation to screen himself, or, to do him justice, to screen anyone else; and the mere fact that I myself had been involved in the matter, having been sent out by one of the bigger fellows, and, therefore, having got myself a flogging by my admission, was no mitigation in his eyes of my offense of what he called sneaking.

"So you may imagine I have no particular desire to meet him again. Unless he has greatly changed, he would do me a bad turn if he had the chance."

"I don't think he has greatly changed," the Doctor said. "That was really what I came in here for this evening rather than to talk about this Sepoy business. I am sorry to say, Bathurst, that when he was in at the Major's today your name happened to be mentioned, and he said at once, 'Is that the Bathurst who they say showed the white feather at Chillianwalla and left the army in consequence?'"

Bathurst's face grew pale and his fingers closed. He remained silent a minute, and then said, "It does not matter; she would have been sure to hear it sooner or later, and I should have told her myself if he had not done so; besides, if, as I am afraid, this Berhampore business is the beginning of trouble, and of such trouble as we have never had since we set foot in India, it is likely that everyone will know what she knows now. Has she spoken to you about it? I suppose she has, or you would not have known that he mentioned it."

"Yes, she was most indignant about it, and did not believe it."

"And what did you say, Doctor?" he asked indifferently.

"Well, I was sorry I could not tell her exactly what you told me. It would have been better if I could have done so. I simply said there were many sorts of courage, and that I was sure that you possessed many sorts in a very high degree, but I could not, of course, deny; although I did not admit, the truth of the report he had mentioned."

"I don't think it makes much difference one way or the other," Bathurst said wearily. "I have known all along that Isobel Hannay would not marry a coward, only I have gone on living in a fool's paradise. However, it is over now—the sooner it is all over the better."

"My dear fellow," the Doctor said earnestly, "don't take this thing too much to heart. I don't wish to try and persuade you that it is not a grave misfortune, but even suppose this trouble takes the very worst form possible, I do not think you will come so very badly out of it as you anticipate. Even assuming that you are unable to do your part in absolute fighting, there may be other opportunities, and most likely will, in which you may be able to show that although unable to control your nerves in the din of battle, you possess in other respects coolness and courage. That feat of yours of attacking the tiger with the dog whip shows conclusively that under many circumstances you are capable of most daring deeds."

Bathurst sat looking down for some minutes. "God grant that it may be so," he said at last; "but it is no use talking about it any more, Doctor. I suppose Major Hannay will keep a sharp lookout over the men?"

"Yes; there was a meeting of the officers this afternoon. It was agreed to make no outward change, and to give the troops no cause whatever to believe that they are suspected. They all feel confident of the goodwill of the men; at the same time they will watch them closely, and if the news comes of further trouble, they will prepare the courthouse as a place of refuge."

"That is a very good plan; but of course everything depends upon whether, if the troops do rise in mutiny, the people of Oude should join them. They are a fighting race, and if they should throw in their lot against us the position would be a desperate one."

"Well, there is no doubt," the Doctor said, "that the Rajah of Bithoor would be with us; that will make Cawnpore safe, and will largely influence all the great Zemindars, though there is no doubt that a good many of them have been sulky ever since the disarmament order was issued. I believe there are few of them who have not got cannon hidden away or buried, and as for the people, the number of arms given up was as nothing to what we know they possessed. In other parts of India I believe the bulk of the people will be with us; but here in Oude, our last annexation, I fear that they will side against us, unless all the great landowners range themselves on our side."

"As far as I can see," Bathurst said, "the people are contented with the change. I don't say what I may call the professional fighting class, the crowd of retainers kept by the great landowners, who were constantly fighting against each other. Annexation has put a stop to all that, and the towns are crowded with these fighting men, who hate us bitterly; but the peasants, the tillers of the soil, have benefited greatly. They are no longer exposed to raids by their powerful neighbors, and can cultivate their fields in peace and quiet. Unfortunately their friendship, such as it is, will not weigh in the slightest degree in the event of a struggle. At any rate, I am sure they are not behind the scenes, and know nothing whatever of any coming trouble. Going as I do among them, and talking to them as one of themselves, I should have noticed it had there been any change in them; and of late naturally I have paid special notice to their manner. Well, if it is to come I hope it will come soon, for anything is better than suspense."

Two days later Major Hannay read out to the men on parade an official document, assuring them that there was no truth whatever in the statements that had been made that the cartridges served out to them had been greased with pigs' fat. They were precisely the same as those that they had used for years, and the men were warned against listening to seditious persons who might try to poison their minds and shake their loyalty to the Government. He then told them that he was sorry to say that at one or two stations the men had been foolish enough to listen to disloyal counsels, and that in consequence the regiments had been disbanded and the men had forfeited all the advantages in the way of pay and pension they had earned by many years of good conduct. He said that he had no fear whatever of any such trouble arising with them, as they knew that they had been well treated, that any legitimate complaint they might make had always been attended to, and that their officers had their welfare thoroughly at heart.

When he had finished, the senior native officer stepped forward, and in the name of the detachment assured the Major that the men were perfectly contented, and would in all cases follow their officers, even if they ordered them to march against their countrymen. At the conclusion of his speech he called upon the troops to give three cheers for the Major and officers, and this was responded to with a show of great enthusiasm.

This demonstration was deemed very satisfactory, and the uneasiness among the residents abated considerably, while the Major and his officers felt convinced that, whatever happened at other stations, there would at least be no trouble at Deennugghur.

"Well, even you are satisfied, Doctor, I suppose?" the Major said, as a party of them who had been dining with Dr. Wade were smoking in the veranda.

"I was hopeful before, Major, and I am hopeful now; but I can't say that today's parade has influenced me in the slightest. Whatever virtues the Hindoo may have, he has certainly that of knowing how to wait. I believe, from what took place, that they have no intention of breaking out at present; whether they are waiting to see what is done at other stations, or until they receive a signal, is more than I can say; but their assurances do not weigh with me to the slightest extent. Their history is full of cases of perfidious massacre. I should say, 'Trust them as long as you can, but don't relax your watch.'"

"You are a confirmed croaker," Captain Rintoul said.

"I do not think so, Rintoul. I know the men I am talking about, and I know the Hindoos generally. They are mere children, and can be molded like clay. As long as we had the molding, all went well; but if they fall into the hands of designing men they can be led in another direction just as easily as we have led them in ours. I own that I don't see who can be sufficiently interested in the matter to conceive and carry out a great conspiracy of this kind. The King of Oude is a captive in our hands, the King of Delhi is too old to play such a part. Scindia and Holkar may possibly long for the powers their fathers possessed, but they are not likely to act together, and may be regarded as rivals rather than friends, and yet if it is not one of these who has been brewing this storm. I own I don't see who can be at the bottom of it, unless it has really originated from some ambitious spirits among the Sepoys, who look in the event of success to being masters of the destinies of India. It is a pity we did not get a few more views from that juggler; we might have known a little more of it then."

"Don't talk about him, Doctor," Wilson said; "it gives me the cold shivers to think of that fellow and what he did; I have hardly slept since then. It was the most creepy thing I ever saw. Richards and I have talked it over every evening we have been alone together, and we can't make head or tail of the affair. Richards thinks it wasn't the girl at all who went up on that pole, but a sort of balloon in her shape. But then, as I say, there was the girl standing among us before she took her place on the pole. We saw her sit down and settle herself on the cushion so that she was balanced right. So it could not have been a balloon then, and if it were a balloon afterwards, when did she change? At any rate the light below was sufficient to see well until she was forty or fifty feet up, and after that she shone out, and we never lost sight of her until she was ever so high. I can understand the pictures, because there might have been a magic lantern somewhere, but that girl trick, and the basket trick, and that great snake are altogether beyond me."

"So I should imagine, Wilson," the Doctor said dryly; "and if I were you I would not bother my head about it.. Nobody has succeeded in finding out any of them yet, and all the wondering in the world is not likely to get you any nearer to it."

"That is what I feel, Doctor, but it is very riling to see things that you can't account for anyhow. I wish he had sent up Richards on the pole instead of the girl. I would not have minded going up myself if he had asked me, though I expect I should have jumped off before it got up very far, even at the risk of breaking my neck."

"I should not mind risking that," the Doctor said, "though I doubt whether I should have known any more about it when I came down; but these jugglers always bring a girl or a boy with them instead of calling somebody out from the audience, as they do at home. Well, if things are quiet we will organize another hunt, Wilson. I have heard of a tiger fifteen miles away from where we killed our last, and you and Richards shall go with me if you like."

"I should like it of all things, Doctor, provided it comes off by day. I don't think I care about sitting through another night on a tree, and then not getting anything like a fair shot at the beast after all."

"We will go by day," the Doctor said. "Bathurst has promised to get some elephants from one of the Zemindars; we will have a regular party this time. I have half promised Miss Hannay she shall have a seat in a howdah with me if the Major will give her leave, and in that case we will send out tents and make a regular party of it. What do you say, Major?"

"I am perfectly willing, Doctor, and have certainly no objection to trusting Isobel to your care. I know you are not likely to miss."

"No, I am not likely to miss, certainly; and besides, there will be Wilson and Richards to give him the coup de grace if I don't finish him."

There was a general laugh, for the two subalterns had been chaffed a good deal at both missing the tiger on the previous occasion.

"Well, when shall it be, Major?"

"Not just at present, at any rate," the Major said. "We must see how things are going on. I certainly should not think of going outside the station now, nor could I give leave to any officer to do so; but if things settle down, and we hear no more of this cartridge business for the next ten days or a fortnight, we will see about it."

But although no news of any outbreak similar to that at Barrackpore was received for some days, the report that came showed a widespread restlessness. At various stations, all over India, fires, believed to be the work of incendiaries, took place, and there was little abatement of the uneasiness. It become known, too, that a native officer had before the rising of Berhampore given warning of the mutiny, and had stated that there was a widespread plot throughout the native regiments to rise, kill their officers, and then march to Delhi, where they were all to gather.

The story was generally disbelieved, although the actual rising had shown that, to some extent, the report was well founded; still men could not bring themselves to believe that the troops among whom they had lived so long, and who had fought so well for us, could meditate such gross treachery, without having, as far as could be seen, any real cause for complaint.

The conduct of the troops at Deennugghur was excellent, and the Colonel wrote that at Cawnpore there were no signs whatever of disaffection, and that the Rajah of Bithoor had offered to come down at the head of his own troops should there be any symptoms of mutiny among the Sepoys. Altogether things looked better, and a feeling of confidence that there would be no serious trouble spread through the station.

The weather had set in very hot, and there was no stirring out now for the ladies between eleven o'clock and five or six in the afternoon. Isobel, however, generally went in for a chat, the first thing after early breakfast, with Mrs. Doolan, whose children were fractious with prickly heat.

"I only wish we had some big, high mountain, my dear, somewhere within reach, where we could establish the children through the summer and run away ourselves occasionally to look after them. We are very badly off here in Oude for that. You are looking very pale yourself the last few days."

"I suppose I feel it a little," Isobel said, "and of course this anxiety everyone has been feeling worries one. Everyone seems to agree that there is no fear of trouble with the Sepoys here; still, as nothing else is talked about, one cannot help feeling nervous about it. However, as things seem settling down now, I hope we shall soon get something else to talk about."

"I have not seen Mr. Bathurst lately," Mrs. Doolan said presently.

"Nor have we," Isobel said quietly; "it is quite ten days since we saw him last."

"I suppose he is falling back into his hermit ways," Mrs. Doolan said carelessly, shooting a keen glance at Isobel, who was leaning over one of the children.

"He quite emerged from his shell for a bit. Mrs. Hunter was saying she never saw such a change in a man, but I suppose he has got tired of it. Captain Forster arrived just in time to fill up the gap. How do you like him, Isobel?"

"He is amusing," the girl said quietly; "I have never seen anyone quite like him before; he talks in an easy, pleasant sort of way, and tells most amusing stories. Then, when he sits down by one he has the knack of dropping his voice and talking in a confidential sort of way, even when it is only about the weather. I am always asking myself how much of it is real, and what there is under the surface."

Mrs. Doolan nodded approval.

"I don't think there is much under the surface, dear, and what there is is just as well left alone; but there is no doubt he can be delightful when he chooses, and very few women would not feel flattered by the attentions of a man who is said to be the handsomest officer in the Indian army, and who has besides distinguished himself several times as a particularly dashing officer."

"I don't think handsomeness goes for much in a man," Isobel said shortly.

Mrs. Doolan laughed.

"Why should it not go for as much as prettiness in a woman? It is no use being cynical, Isobel; it is part of our nature to admire pretty things, and as far as I can see an exceptionally handsome man is as legitimate an object of admiration as a lovely woman."

"Yes, to admire, Mrs. Doolan, but not to like."

"Well, my dear, I don't want to be hurrying you away, but I think you had better get back before the sun gets any higher. You may say you don't feel the heat much, but you are looking pale and fagged, and the less you are out in the sun the better."

Isobel had indeed been having a hard time during those ten days. At first she had thought of little but what she should do when Bathurst called. It seemed impossible that she could be exactly the same with him as she had been before, that was quite out of the question, and yet how was she to be different?

Ten days had passed without his coming. This was so unusual that an idea came into her mind which terrified her, and the first time when the Doctor came in and found her alone she said, "Of course, Dr. Wade, you have not mentioned to Mr. Bathurst the conversation we had, but it is curious his not having been here since."

"Certainly I mentioned it," the Doctor said calmly; "how could I do otherwise? It was evident to me that he would not be welcomed here as he was before, and I could not do otherwise than warn him of the change he might expect to find, and to give him the reason for it."

Isobel stood the picture of dismay. "I don't think you had any right to do so, Doctor," she said. "You have placed me in a most painful position."

"In not so painful a one as it would have been, my dear, if he had noticed the change himself, as he must have done, and asked for the cause of it."

Isobel stood twisting her fingers over each other before her nervously.

"But what am I to do?" she asked.

"I do not see that there is anything more for you to do," the Doctor said. "Mr. Bathurst may not be perfect in all respects, but he is certainly too much of a gentleman to force his visits where they are not wanted. I do not say he will not come here at all, for not to do so after being here so much would create comment and talk in the station, which would be as painful to you as to him, but he certainly will not come here more often than is necessary to keep up appearances."

"I don't think you ought to have told him," Isobel repeated, much distressed.

"I could not help it, my dear. You would force me to admit there was some truth in the story Captain Forster told you, and I was, therefore, obliged to acquaint him with the fact or he would have had just cause to reproach me. Besides, you spoke of despising a man who was not physically brave."

"You never told him that, Doctor; surely you never told him that?"

"I only told what it was necessary he should know, my dear, namely, that you had heard the story, that you had questioned me, and that I, knowing the facts from his lips, admitted that there was some foundation for the story, while asserting that I was convinced that he was morally a brave man. He did not ask how you took the news, nor did I volunteer any information whatever on the subject, but he understood, I think, perfectly the light in which you would view a coward."

"But what am I to do when we meet, Doctor?" she asked piteously.

"I should say that you will meet just as ordinary acquaintances do meet, Miss Hannay. People are civil to others they are thrown with, however much they may distrust them at heart. You may be sure that Mr. Bathurst will make no allusion whatever to the matter. I think I can answer for it that you will see no shade of difference in his manner. This has always been a heavy burden for him, as even the most careless observer may see in his manner. I do not say that this is not a large addition to it, but I dare say he will pull through; and now I must be off."

"You are very unkind, Doctor, and I never knew you unkind before."

"Unkind!" the Doctor repeated, with an air of surprise. "In what way? I love this young fellow. I had cherished hopes for him that he hardly perhaps ventured to cherish for himself. I quite agree with you that what has passed has annihilated those hopes. You despise a man who is a coward. I am not surprised at that. Bathurst is the last man in the world who would force himself upon a woman who despised him. I have done my best to save you from being obliged to make a personal declaration of your sentiments. I repudiate altogether the accusation as being unkind. I don't blame you in the slightest. I think that your view is the one that a young woman of spirit would naturally take. I acquiesce in it entirely. I will go farther, I consider it a most fortunate occurrence for you both that you found it out in time."

Isobel's cheeks had flushed and paled several times while he was speaking; then she pressed her lips tightly together, and as he finished she said, "I think, Doctor, it will be just as well not to discuss the matter further."

"I am quite of your opinion," he said. "We will agree not to allude to it again. Goodby."

And then Isobel had retired to her room and cried passionately, while the Doctor had gone off chuckling to himself as if he were perfectly satisfied with the state of affairs.

During the week that had since elapsed the Major had wondered and grumbled several times at Bathurst's absence.

"I expect," he said one day, when a note of refusal had come from him, "that he doesn't care about meeting Forster. You remember Forster said they had been at school together, and from the tone in which he spoke it is evident that they disliked each other there. No doubt he has heard from the Doctor that Forster is frequently in here," and the Major spoke rather irritably, for it seemed to him that Isobel showed more pleasure in the Captain's society than she should have done after what he had said to her about him; indeed, Isobel, especially when the Doctor was present, appeared by no means to object to Captain Forster's attentions.

Upon the evening, however, of the day when Isobel had spoken to Mrs. Doolan, Bathurst came in, rather late in the evening.

"How are you, Bathurst?" the Major said cordially. "Why, you have become quite a stranger. We haven't seen you for over a fortnight. Do you know Captain Forster?"

"We were at school together formerly, I believe," Bathurst said quietly. "We have not met since, and I fancy we are both changed beyond recognition."

Captain Forster looked with surprise at the strong, well knit figure. He had not before seen Bathurst, and had pictured him to himself as a weak, puny man.

"I certainly should not have known Mr. Bathurst," he said. "I have changed a great deal, no doubt, but he has certainly changed more."

There was no attempt on the part of either to shake hands. As they moved apart Isobel came into the room.

A quick flash of color spread over her face when, upon entering, she saw Bathurst talking to her uncle. Then she advanced, shook hands with him as usual, and said, "It is quite a time since you were here, Mr. Bathurst. If everyone was as full of business as you are, we should get on badly."

Then she moved on without waiting for a reply and sat down, and was soon engaged in a lively conversation with. Captain Forster, whilst Bathurst, a few minutes later, pleading that as he had been in the saddle all day he must go and make up for lost time, took his leave.

Captain Forster had noticed the flush on Isobel's cheeks when she saw Bathurst, and had drawn his own conclusions.

"There has been a flirtation between them," he said to himself; "but I fancy I have put a spoke in his wheel. She gave him the cold shoulder unmistakably."

April passed, and as matters seemed to be quieting down, there being no fresh trouble at any of the stations, the Major told Dr. Wade that he really saw no reason why the projected tiger hunt should not take place. The Doctor at once took the matter in hand, and drove out the next morning to the village from which he had received news about the tiger, had a long talk with the shikaris of the place, took a general view of the country, settled the line in which the beat should take place, and arranged for a large body of beaters to be on the spot at the time agreed on.

Bathurst undertook to obtain the elephants from two Zemindars in the neighborhood, who promised to furnish six, all of which were more or less accustomed to the sport; while the Major and Mr. Hunter, who had been a keen sportsman, although he had of late given up the pursuit of large game, arranged for a number of bullock carts for the transport of tents and stores.

Bathurst himself declined to be one of the party, which was to consist of Mr. Hunter and his eldest daughter, the Major and Isobel, the Doctor, the two subalterns, and Captain Forster. Captain Doolan said frankly that he was no shot, and more likely to hit one of the party than the tiger. Captain Rintoul at first accepted, but his wife shed such floods of tears at the idea of his leaving her and going into danger, that for the sake of peace he agreed to remain at home.

Wilson and Richards were greatly excited over the prospect, and talked of nothing else; they were burning to wipe out the disgrace of having missed on the previous occasion. Each of them interviewed the Doctor privately, and implored him to put them in a position where they were likely to have the first shot. Both used the same arguments, namely, that the Doctor had killed so many tigers that one more or less could make no difference to him, and if they missed, which they modestly admitted was possible, he could still bring the animal down.

As the Doctor was always in a good temper when there was a prospect of sport, he promised each of them to do all that he could for them, at the same time pointing out that it was always quite a lottery which way the tiger might break out.

Isobel was less excited than she would have thought possible over the prospect of taking part in a tiger hunt. She had many consultations to hold with Mrs. Hunter, the Doctor, and Rumzan as to the food to be taken, and the things that would be absolutely necessary for camping out; for, as it was possible that the first day's beat would be unsuccessful, they were to be prepared for at least two days' absence from home. Two tents were to be taken, one for the gentlemen, the other for Isobel and Mary Hunter. These, with bedding and camp furniture, cooking utensils and provisions, were to be sent off at daybreak, while the party were to start as soon as the heat of the day was over.

"I wish Bathurst had been coming," Major Hannay said, as, with Isobel by his side, he drove out of the cantonment. "He seems to have slipped away from us altogether; he has only been in once for the last three or four weeks. You haven't had a tiff with him about anything, have you, Isobel? It seems strange his ceasing so suddenly to come after our seeing so much of him."

"No, uncle, I have not seen him except when you have. What put such an idea into your mind?"

"I don't know, my dear; young people do have tiffs sometimes about all sorts of trifles, though I should not have thought that Bathurst was the sort of man to do anything of that sort. I don't think that he likes Forster, and does not care to meet him. I fancy that is at the bottom of it."

"Very likely," Isobel said innocently, and changed the subject.

It was dark when they reached the appointed spot, and indeed from the point where they left the road a native with a torch had run ahead to show them the way. The tents looked bright; two or three large fires were burning round them, and the lamps had already been lighted within.

"These tents do look cozy," Mary Hunter said, as she and Isobel entered the one prepared for them. "I do wish one always lived under canvas during the hot weather."

"They look cool," Isobel said, "but I don't suppose they are really as cool as the bungalows; but they do make them comfortable. Here is the bathroom all ready, and I am sure we want it after that dusty drive. Will you have one first, or shall I? We must make haste, for Rumzan said dinner would be ready in half an hour. Fortunately we shan't be expected to do much in the way of dressing."

The dinner was a cheerful meal, and everyone was in high spirits.

The tiger had killed a cow the day before, and the villagers were certain that he had retired to a deep nullah round which a careful watch had been kept all day. Probably he would steal out by night to make a meal from the carcass of the cow, but it had been arranged that he was to do this undisturbed, and that the hunt was to take place by daylight.

"It is wonderful how the servants manage everything," Isobel said. "The table is just as well arranged as it is at home. People would hardly believe in England, if they could see us sitting here, that we were only out on a two days' picnic. They would be quite content there to rough it and take their meals sitting on the ground, or anyway they could get them. It really seems ridiculous having everything like this."

"There is nothing like making yourself comfortable," the Doctor said; "and as the servants have an easy time of it generally, it does them good to bestir themselves now and then. The expense of one or two extra bullock carts is nothing, and it makes all the difference in comfort."

"How far is the nullah from here, Doctor?" Wilson, who could think of nothing else but the tiger, asked.

"About two miles. It is just as well not to go any nearer. Not that he would be likely to pay us a visit, but he might take the alarm and shift his quarters. No, no more wine, Major; we shall want our blood cool in the morning. Now we will go out to look at the elephants and have a talk with the mahouts, and find out which of the animals can be most trusted to stand steady. It is astonishing what a dread most elephants have of tigers. I was on one once that I was assured would face anything, and the brute bolted and went through some trees, and I was swept off the pad and was half an hour before I opened my eyes. It was a mercy I had not every rib broken. Fortunately I was a lightweight, or I might have been killed. And I have seen the same sort of thing happen a dozen times, so we must choose a couple of steady ones, anyhow, for the ladies."

For the next hour they strolled about outside. The Doctor cross questioned the mahouts and told off the elephants for the party; then there was a talk with the native shikaris and arrangements made for the beat, and at an early hour all retired to rest. The morning was just breaking when they were called. Twenty minutes later they assembled to take a cup of coffee before starting. The elephants were arranged in front of the tents, and they were just about to mount when a horse was heard coming at a gallop.

"Wait a moment," the Major said; "it may be a message of some sort from the station." A minute later Bathurst rode in and reined up his horse in front of the tent.

"Why, Bathurst, what brings you here? Changed your mind at the last moment, and found you could get away? That's right; you shall come on the pad with me."

"No, I have not come for that, Major; I have brought a dispatch that arrived at two o'clock this morning. Doolan opened it and came to me, and asked me to bring it on to you, as I knew the way and where your camp was to be pitched."

"Nothing serious, I hope, Bathurst," the Major said, struck with the gravity with which Bathurst spoke. "It must be something important, or Doolan would never have routed you off like that."

"It is very serious, Major," Bathurst said, in a low voice. "May I suggest you had better go into the tent to read it? Some of the servants understand English."

"Come in with me," the Major said, and led the way into the tent, where the lamps were still burning on the breakfast table, although the light had broadened out over the sky outside. It was with grave anticipation of evil that the Major took the paper from its envelope, but his worst fears were more than verified by the contents.

"My Dear Major: The General has just received a telegram with terrible news from Meerut. 'Native troops mutinied, murdered officers, women, and children, opened jails and burned cantonments, and marched to Delhi.' It is reported that there has been a general rising there and the massacre of all Europeans. Although this is not confirmed, the news is considered probable. We hear also that the native cavalry at Lucknow have mutinied. Lawrence telegraphs that he has suppressed it with the European troops there, and has disarmed the mutineers. I believe that our regiment will be faithful, but none can be trusted now. I should recommend your preparing some fortified house to which all Europeans in station can retreat in case of trouble. Now that they have taken to massacre as well as mutiny, God knows how it will all end."

"Good Heavens! who could have dreamt of this?" the Major groaned. "Massacred their officers, women, and children. All Europeans at Delhi supposed to have been massacred, and there must be hundreds of them. Can it be true?"

"The telegram as to Meerut is clearly an official one," Bathurst said. "Delhi is as yet but a rumor, but it is too probable that if these mutineers and jail birds, flushed with success, reached Delhi before the whites were warned, they would have their own way in the place, as, with the exception of a few artillerymen at the arsenal, there is not a white soldier in the place."

"But there were white troops at Meerut," the Major said. "What could they have been doing? However, that is not the question now. We must, of course, return instantly. Ask the others to come in here, Bathurst. Don't tell the girls what has taken place; it will be time enough for that afterwards. All that is necessary to say is that you have brought news of troubles at some stations unaffected before, and that I think it best to return at once."

The men were standing in a group, wondering what the news could be which was deemed of such importance that Bathurst should carry it out in the middle of the night.

"The Major will be glad if you will all go in, gentlemen," Bathurst said, as he joined them.

"Are we to go in, Mr. Bathurst?" Miss Hunter asked.

"No, I think not, Miss Hunter; the fact is there have been some troubles at two or three other places, and the Major is going to hold a sort of council of war as to whether the hunt had not better be given up. I rather fancy that they will decide to go back at once. News flies very fast in India. I think the Major would like that he and his officers should be back before it is whispered among the Sepoys that the discontent has not, as we hoped, everywhere ceased."

"It must be very serious," Isobel said, "or uncle would never decide to go back, when all the preparations are made."

"It would never do, you see, Miss Hannay, for the Commandant and four of the officers to be away, if the Sepoys should take it into their heads to refuse to receive cartridges or anything of that sort."

"You can't give us any particulars, then, Mr. Bathurst?"

"The note was a very short one, and was partly made up of unconfirmed rumors. As I only saw it in my capacity of a messenger, I don't think I am at liberty to say more than that."

"What a trouble the Sepoys are," Mary Hunter said pettishly; "it is too bad our losing a tiger hunt when we may never have another chance to see one!"

"That is a very minor trouble, Mary."

"I don't think so," the girl said; "just at present it seems to me to be very serious."

At this moment the Doctor put his head out of the tent.

"Will you come in, Bathurst?"