On his part, Bruce did not particularly welcome the sea.  There might be another man somewhere.  No woman so beautiful as Kathlyn could possibly be without suitors.  And when the journey down to the sea was resumed he became taciturn and moody, and Kathlyn’s heart correspondingly heavy.

The colonel was quite oblivious to this change.  He swung his legs free of the primitive stirrups and whistled the airs which had been popular in America at the time of his departure.

There was no lightness in the expressions of Ramabai and Pundita.  They were about to lose these white people forever, and they had grown to love, nay, worship them.  More, they must return to face they knew not what.

As for Ahmed, he displayed his orientalism by appearing unconcerned.  He had made up his mind not to return to America with his master.  There was much to do in Allaha, and the spirit of intrigue had laid firm hold of him.  He wanted to be near at hand when Ramabai struck his blow.  He would break the news to the Colonel Sahib before they sailed.

It was four o’clock when the caravan entered the little seaport town.  A few tramp steamers lay anchored in the offing.  A British flag drooped from the stem of one of them.  This meant Bombay; and Bombay, in turn, meant Suez, the Mediterranean and the broad Atlantic.

The air was still and hot, for the Indian summer was now beginning to lay its burning hand upon this great peninsula.  The pale dust, the white stucco of the buildings, blinded the eyes.

They proceeded at once to the single hotel, where they found plenty of accommodation.  Then the colonel hurried off to the cable office and wired Winnie.  Next he ascertained that the British ship Simla would weigh anchor the following evening for Bombay; that there they could pick up the Delhi, bound for England.  There was nothing further to do but wait for the answer to the colonel’s cable to Winnie, which would arrive somewhere about noon of the next day.

And that answer struck the hearts of all of them with the coldness of death.  Umballa had beaten them.  Winnie had sailed weeks ago for Allaha, in search of father and sister!

Ahmed spat out his betel-nut and squared his shoulders.  Somehow he had rather expected something like this.  The reason for Umballa’s half-hearted pursuit stood forth clearly.

“Sahib, it is fate,” he said.  “We must return at once to Allaha.  Truly, the curse of that old guru sticks like the blood leeches of the Bengal swamps.  But as you have faith in your guru, I have faith in mine.  Not a hair of our heads shall be harmed.”

“I am a very miserable man, Ahmed!  God has forsaken me!” The colonel spoke with stoic calm; he was more like the man Ahmed had formerly known.

“No, Allah has not forsaken; he has forgot us for a time.”  And Ahmed strode out to make the arrangements for the return.