keep order, as they pleasantly termed it, when their leaders were subsequently asked for explanations.  In the end a good many heads were broken before the lady was safely lodged in her temple.  Nor did the trouble end there.  The presence of a reincarnated Devi at once kindled the Hindus to fervour and stimulated to hostility against them the fanatical Mohammedans.  Futteh Ali Shah, a merchant, a municipal councillor and a landowner of some importance, headed a deputation of elderly gentlemen who begged Ralston to remove the danger from the city.

Danger there was, as Ralston on his morning rides through the streets could not but understand.  The temple was built in the corner of an open space, and upon that open space a noisy and excited crowd surged all day; while from the countryside around pilgrims in a mood of frenzied piety and Pathans spoiling for a fight trooped daily in through the gates of Peshawur.  Ralston understood that the time had come for definite steps to be taken; and he took them with that unconcerned half-weary air which was at once natural to him and impressive to these particular people with whom he had to deal.

He summoned two of his native levies and mounted his horse.

“But you will take a guard,” said Colonel Ward, of the Oxfordshires, who had been lunching with Ralston.  “I’ll send a company down with you.”

“No, thank you,” said Ralston listlessly, “I think my two men will do.”

The Colonel stared and expostulated.

“You know, Ralston, you are very rash.  Your predecessor never rode into the City without an escort.”

“I do every morning.”

“I know,” returned the Colonel, “and that’s where you are wrong.  Some day something will happen.  To go down with two of your levies to-day is madness.  I speak seriously.  The place is in a ferment.”

“Oh, I think I’ll be all right,” said Ralston, and he rode at a trot down from Government House into the road which leads past the gaol and the Fort to the gate of Peshawur.  At the gate he reduced the trot to a walk, and so, with his two levies behind him, passed up along the streets like a man utterly undisturbed.  It was not bravado which had made him refuse an escort.  On the contrary, it was policy.  To assume that no one questioned his authority was in Ralston’s view the best way and the quickest to establish it.  He pushed forward through the crowd right up to the walls of the temple, seemingly indifferent to every cry or threat which was uttered as he passed.  The throng closed in behind him, and he came to a halt in front of a low door set in the whitewashed wall which enclosed the temple and its precincts.  Upon this door he beat with the butt of his crop and a little wicket in the door was opened.  At the bars of the wicket an old man’s face showed for a moment and then drew back in fear.

“Open!” cried Ralston peremptorily.

The face appeared again.