“That is what we desire,” replied the captain with a knowing look at his silent troopers.

“I must buy you.”

The captain salaamed.

“But after I have bought you?” ironically.

“Heaven born; our blood is yours to spill where and when you will.”

From under the teak table Umballa drew forth two heavy bags of silver coin.  These he emptied upon the table dramatically; white shining metal, sparkling as the candle flames wavered.  Umballa arranged the coin in stacks, one of them triple in size.

“Yours, Captain,” said Umballa, indicating the large stack.

The captain pocketed it, and one by one his troopers passed and helped themselves and fell back along the wall in military alignment, bright-eyed and watchful.

“Thanks, heaven born!”

The captain and his troopers filed out.  Umballa fingered the empty bags, his brow wrinkled.  Cut off a cobra’s head and it could only wriggle until sunset.  Umballa gave the vanishing captain two weeks.  Then he should vanish indeed.

The next morning while the council and Umballa were in session relative as to what should be done with Kathlyn in the event of her refusal to bend, two soldiers entered, bringing with them a beautiful native young woman, one Pundita, wife of Ramabai, found in murder.

Umballa wiped his betel stained lips and salaamed mockingly.  Not so long ago he had been attentive to this young woman—­after her marriage.  She had sent him about his business with burning ears and a hot cheek, made so by the contact of her strong young hand.  Revenge, great or small, was always sweet to Umballa.

To the slave girl who attended Pundita he said:  “Go summon the queen.  It is for her to decide what shall be done with this woman.”

Through the veil Pundita’s black eyes sparkled with hatred.

When Kathlyn came in it was at once explained to her that the woman’s husband had been taken for murder; by law his wife became the queen’s property, to dispose of as she willed.  The veil was plucked from Pundita’s face.  She was ordered to salaam in submission to her queen.  Pundita salaamed, but stoutly refused to kneel.  They proceeded to force her roughly, when Kathlyn intervened.

“Tell her she is free,” said Kathlyn.

“Free?” came from the amazed Pundita’s lips.

“You speak English?” cried Kathlyn excitedly.

“Yea, Majesty.”

Kathlyn could have embraced her for the very joy of the knowledge.  A woman who could talk English, who could understand, who perhaps could help!  Yes, yes; the God of her fathers was good.

Umballa smiled.  All this was exactly what he had reason to expect.  Seven days of authority; it would amuse him to watch her.

“Tell me your story,” urged Kathlyn kindly.  “Be not afraid of these men.  I shall make you my lady in waiting . . . so long as I am queen,” with a searching glance at Umballa’s face.  She learned nothing from the half smile there.