“I am very sorry,” she said in a whisper of remorse.  “I did not think.  I have done you grave harm.”

“Not you,” he said quietly.  “You may be quite sure of that.  Those who have done me harm are those who sent me, ten years ago, to England.”

CHAPTER XV

A QUESTION ANSWERED

Thereafter both sat silent for a little while.  The stream of people across the courtyard had diminished.  High up on the great platform by the lighted arches the throng still pressed and shifted.  But here there was quietude.  The clatter of voices had died down.  A band playing somewhere near at hand could be heard.  Violet Oliver for the first time in her life had been brought face to face with a real tragedy.  She was conscious of it as something irremediable and terribly sad.  And for her own share in bringing it about she was full of remorse.  She looked at Shere Ali as he sat beside her, his eyes gazing into the courtyard, his face tired and hopeless.  There was nothing to be done.  Her thoughts told her so no less clearly than his face.  Here was a life spoilt at the beginning.  But that was all that she saw.  That the spoilt life might become an instrument of evil—­she was blind to that possibility:  she thought merely of the youth who suffered and still must suffer; who was crippled by the very means which were meant to strengthen him:  and pity inclined her towards him with an ever-increasing strength.

“I couldn’t do it,” she repeated silently to herself.  “I couldn’t do it.  It would be madness.”

Shere Ali raised his head and said with a smile, “I am glad they are not playing the tune which I once heard on the Lake of Geneva, and again in London when I said good-bye to you.”

And then Violet sought to comfort him, her mind still working on what he had told her of his life in Chiltistan.

“But it will become easier,” she said, beginning in that general way.  “In time you will rule in Chiltistan.  That is certain.”  But he checked her with a shake of the head.

“Certain?  There is the son of Abdulla Mohammed, who fought against my father when Linforth’s father was killed.  It is likely enough that those old days will be revived.  And I should have the priests against me.”

“The Mullahs!” she exclaimed, remembering in what terms he was wont to speak of them to her.

“Yes,” he answered, “I have set them against me already.  They laid their traps for me while I was on the sea, and I would not fall into them.  They would have liked to raise the country against my father and the English, just as they raised it twenty-five years ago.  And they would have liked me to join in with them.”

He related to Violet the story of his meeting with Safdar Khan at the Gate of Lahore, and he repeated the words which he had used in Safdar Khan’s hearing.

“It did not take long for my threats to be repeated in the bazaar of Kohara, and from the bazaar they were quickly carried to the ears of the Mullahs.  I had proof of it,” he said with a laugh.