“There!  What did I say?” whispered Mrs. Merriman to her daughter as Monsieur de Bonnefon went forward to meet them on the threshold of his veranda.  “A noble in misfortune!  I only hope his wife is presentable.”

They entered the house and were shown into a room opening on the veranda.

“You will pardon my leaving you for a few moments, Mesdames,” said their obliging host.  “I shall bring my wife to welcome you, and send to Chandernagore for a boat.”

With a bow he left them, closing the door behind him.

“Madame de Bonnefon was taken by surprise, I suppose,” said Mrs. Merriman, “and is making her toilet.  The vanity of these French people, my dear!”

Minutes passed.  Evening was coming on apace; little light filtered through the chiks.  The ladies sat, wondering why their hostess did not appear.

“Madame takes a long time, my dear,” said Mrs. Merriman.

“I don’t like it, mamma.  I wish we hadn’t come into the stranger’s house.”

“Why, my love, what nonsense!  The man is not a savage.  The French are not at war with us, and if they were, they do not war on women.  Something has happened to delay Monsieur de Bonnefon.”

“I can’t help it, mamma; I don’t like his looks; I fear something, I don’t know what.  Oh, I wish father were here!”

She got up and walked to and fro restlessly.  Then, as by a sudden impulse, she went quickly to the door and turned the handle, She gave a low cry under her breath, and sprang round.

“Mamma!  Mamma!” she cried.  “I knew it!  The door is locked.”

Mrs. Merriman rose immediately.

“Nonsense, my dear!  He would not dare do such a thing!”

But the door did not yield to her hand, though she pulled and shook it violently.

“The insolent villain!” she exclaimed.

She had plenty of courage, and if her voice shook, it was with anger, not fear.  She went to the window opening on the veranda, loosed the bars, and looked out.

“We can get out here,” she said.  “We will walk instantly to Chandernagore, and demand assistance from the governor.”

But the next moment she shrank back into the room.  Two armed peons stood in the veranda, one on each side of the window.  Recovering herself, Mrs. Merriman went to the window again.

“They will not dare to stop us,” she said.

“Let me pass, you men; I will not be kept here.”

But the natives did not budge from their post.  Only, as the angry lady flung open one of the folding doors, they closed together and barred the way with their pikes.  Accustomed to absolute subservience from her own peons, Mrs. Merriman saw at once that insistence was useless.  If these men did not obey instantly they would not obey at all.

“I cannot fight them,” she said, again turning back.  “The wretches!  If only your father were here!”

“Or Mr. Burke,” said Phyllis.  “Oh, how I wish he had come with us!”