“What are you doing here?” Jane demanded.  “Why do you come to this place?”

Ameerah answered her with simple fluency in Hindustani, with her manner of not realising that she was speaking to a foreigner who could not understand her.  What she explained was that, having heard that Jane’s Mem Sahib came here to meditate on account of the stillness, she herself had formed the habit of coming to indulge in prayer and meditation when the place was deserted for the day.  She commended the place to Jane, and to Jane’s mother, whom she believed to be holy persons given to devotional exercises.  Jane shook her.

“I don’t understand a word you say,” she cried.  “You know I don’t.  Speak in English.”

Ameerah shook her head slowly, and smiled again with patience.  She endeavoured to explain in English which Jane was sure was worse than she had ever heard her use before.  Was it forbidden that a servant should come to the water?

She was far too much for Jane, who was so unnerved that she burst into tears.

“You are up to some wickedness,” she sobbed; “I know you are.  You’re past bearing.  I’m going to write to people that’s got the right to do what I daren’t.  I’m going back to that bridge.”

Ameerah looked at her with a puzzled amiability for a few seconds.  She entered into further apologies and explanations in Hindustani.  In the midst of them her narrow eyes faintly gleamed, and she raised a hand.

“They come to us.  It is your Mem Sahib and her people.  Hear them.”

She spoke truly.  Jane had miscalculated as to her hour, or the time spent at the dinner-table had been shorter than usual.  In fact, Lady Walderhurst had brought her guests to see the young moon peer through the lime-trees, as she sometimes did when the evening was warm.

Jane Cupp fled precipitately.  Ameerah disappeared also, but without precipitation or any sign of embarrassment.

* * * * *

“You look as if you had not slept well, Jane,” Lady Walderhurst remarked in the morning as her hair was being brushed.  She had glanced into the glass and saw that it reflected a pale face above her own, and that the pale face had red rims to its eyes.

“I have been a bit troubled by a headache, my lady,” Jane answered.

“I have something like a headache myself.”  Lady Walderhurst’s voice had not its usual cheerful ring.  Her own eyes looked heavy.  “I did not rest well.  I have not rested well for a week.  That habit of starting from my sleep feeling that some sound has disturbed me is growing on me.  Last night I dreamed again that someone touched my side.  I think I shall be obliged to send for Sir Samuel Brent.”

“My lady,” exclaimed Jane feverishly, “if you would—­if you would.”

Lady Walderhurst’s look at her was nervous and disturbed.

“Do you—­does your mother think I am not as well as I should be, Jane?” she said.