Umballa remained in the palace, burning with the fires of murder.  Messenger after messenger came to report that the fugitives were still at large.  Contrary to Ahmed’s expectations, Umballa did not believe that his enemies would be foolhardy enough to seek refuge in the house of Ramabai.  The four roads leading out of the city were watched, the colonel’s bungalow and even the ruins of Bruce’s camp.  They were still in the city; but where?

A king’s peg, and another; and Umballa stormed, his heart filled with Dutch courage.

Ramabai made his preparations in case the hunters entered the house.  He opened a secret door which led into a large gallery, dim and dusty but still beautiful.  Ancient armor covered the walls; armor of the days when there existed in Delhi a peacock throne; armor inlaid with gold and silver and turquoise, and there were jewel-incrusted swords and daggers, a blazing helmet which one of Pundita’s ancestors had worn when the Great Khan came thundering down from China.

“Here,” said Ramabai to the colonel, “you will be safe.  They might search for days without learning this room existed.  There will be no need to remain here now.  Time enough when my servant gives warning.”

They filed out of the gallery solemnly.  Kathlyn went into the garden, followed by Bruce.

“Do you know,” said Kathlyn, “the sight of all that armor, old and still magnificent, seemed to awaken the recollection of another age to me?”

He wanted to take her in his arms, but he waited for her to continue the thought.

“I wonder if, in the dim past, I was not an Amazon?”

She stretched out her arms and suddenly he caught them and drew them down.

“I love you, Kathlyn!”

“No, no!” She struggled back from him.  “Let us return to father and Winnie,” she said.

During this talk in the garden Umballa had not been inactive.  He ordered his captain of the guard to proceed at once to the house of Ramabai and learn if they were there, or had been.

The captain salaamed and departed with his men.

As Bruce and Kathlyn reached the door leading into the house they were met by Ramabai, whose face was grave.

“Ah, Mem-sahib, you ought not to have come out here.  You might be seen.”  The servant who had been watching the street burst in with the cry:  “Soldiers!”

The colonel, Winnie and Pundita appeared.  For a moment they believed that Ramabai was going to guide them to the secret gallery.  But suddenly he raised his head and stared boldly at the gate.  And by that sign Bruce and the colonel understood:  Ramabai had taken up the dice to make his throw.  The two men put their hands on their revolvers and waited.

Soon the captain and his men came rushing in, only to stop short at a sign from Ramabai.

“Be with me on the morrow, and I promise out of my own chest will I pay you your arrears and earnest money for the future.  On the other hand, what will you gain by taking us prisoners to Umballa?”