“It is best he should go, Kit,” her father declared.  “We’ll not tell Ramabai.  He has been a man all the way through; but we mustn’t sacrifice our chances for the sake of a bit of sentiment.  John must seek Bala Khan’s aid.”

Kathlyn became resigned to the inevitable.

Umballa.  He tried to bribe the soldiers.  They laughed and taunted him.  He took his rings from his fingers and offered them.  The soldiers snatched them out of his palm and thrust him along the path which led to the mill.  In Allaha political malefactors and murderers were made to serve the state; not a bad law if it had always been a just one.  But many a poor devil had died at the wrist bar for no other reason than that he had offended some high official, disturbed the serenity of some priest.

When the prisoners saw Umballa a shout went up.  There were some there who had Umballa to thank for their miseries.  They hailed him and jeered him and mocked him.

“Here is the gutter rat!”

“May his feet be tender!”

“Robber of the poor, where is my home, my wife and children?”

“May he rot in the grave with a pig!”

“Hast ever been thirsty, Highness?”

“Drink thy sweat, then!”

“Give the ‘heaven born’ irons that are rusted!”

The keepers enjoyed this raillery.  Umballa was going to afford them much amusement.  They forced him to the wrist bar, snapped the irons on his wrist, and shouted to the men to tread.  Ah, well they knew the game!  They trotted with gusto, forcing Umballa to keep pace with them, a frightful ordeal for a beginner.  Presently he slipped and fell, and hung by his wrists while his legs and thighs bumped cruelly.  The lash fell upon his shoulders, and he shrieked and grew limp.  He had fainted.

* * * * * *

Among the late king’s papers they found an envelope addressed to Kathlyn.  It was in grandiloquent English.  Brevity of speech is unknown to the East Indian.  Kathlyn read it with frowning eyes.  She gave it to her father to read; and it hurt her to note the way his eyes took fire at the contents of that letter.  The filigree basket of gold and gems; the trinkets for which he had risked his own life, Kathlyn’s, then Winnie’s.  In turn Bruce and Ramabai perused the letter; and to Ramabai came the inspiration.

They would seek this treasure, but only he, Ramabai, and Pundita would return.  Here lay their way to freedom without calling upon Bala Khan for aid.  The matter, however, had to be submitted to the priests, and those wily men in yellow robes agreed.  They could very well promise Durga Ram his freedom again, pursue these treasure seekers and destroy them; that would be Durga Ram’s ransom.

The return to the palace was joyous this time; but in her heart of hearts Kathlyn was skeptical.  Till she trod the deck of a ship homeward bound she would always be doubting.