Protests rose from the crowd; the protests became cries of anger; the throng swayed and jostled.  But the Pathan led the priest to the door and thrust him out.

Again Ralston turned to the platform.

“Listen to me,” he called out to the lady from Gujerat.  “You must leave Peshawur.  You are a trouble to the town.  I will not let you stay.”

But the lady paid no heed.  Her mind floated above the earth, and with every moment the danger grew.  Closer and closer the throng pressed in upon Ralston and his attendant.  The clamour rose shrill and menacing.  Ralston cried out to his Pathan in a voice which rang clear and audible even above the clamour: 

“Bring handcuffs!”

The words were heard and silence fell upon all that crowd, the sudden silence of stupefaction.  That such an outrage, such a defilement of a holy place, could be contemplated came upon the worshippers with a shock.  But the Pathan levy was seen to be moving towards the door to obey the order, and as he went the cries and threats rose with redoubled ardour.  For a moment it seemed to Ralston that the day would go against him, so fierce were the faces which shouted in his ears, so turbulent the movement of the crowd.  It needed just one hand to be laid upon the Pathan’s shoulder as he forced his way towards the door, just one blow to be struck, and the ugly rush would come.  But the hand was not stretched out, nor the blow struck; and the Pathan was seen actually at the threshold of the door.  Then the Goddess Devi came down to earth and spoke to another of her priests quickly and urgently.  The priest went swiftly down the steps.

“The goddess will leave Peshawur, since your Excellency so wills it,” he said to Ralston.  “She will shake the dust of this city from her feet.  She will not bring trouble upon its people.”  So far he had got when the goddess became violently agitated.  She beckoned to the priest and when he came to her side she spoke quickly to him in an undertone.  For the last second or two the goddess had grown quite human and even feminine.  She was rating the priest well and she did it spitefully.  It was a crestfallen priest who returned to Ralston.

“The goddess, however, makes a condition,” said he.  “If she goes there must be a procession.”

The goddess nodded her head emphatically.  She was clearly adamant upon that point.

Ralston smiled.

“By all means.  The lady shall have a show, since she wants one,” said he, and turning towards the door, he signalled to the Pathan to stop.

“But it must be this afternoon,” said he.  “For she must go this afternoon.”

And he made his way out of the courtyard into the street.  The lady from Gujerat left Peshawur three hours later.  The streets were lined with levies, although the Mohammedans assured his Excellency that there was no need for troops.

“We ourselves will keep order,” they urged.  Ralston smiled, and ordered up a company of Regulars.  He himself rode out from Government House, and at the bend of the road he met the procession, with the lady from Gujerat at its head in a litter with drawn curtains of tawdry gold.