“Miss Kathlyn, I am growing a bit afraid of you,” said Bruce.

“And why?”

“I’ve never seen animals act like that before.  What is it you do to them?”

“Let them know that I am not afraid of them and that I am fond of them.”

“I am not afraid of them and am also fond of them.  Yet they spit at me whenever I approach.”

“Perhaps it is black art.”  The shadow of a smile crossed her lips.  Then the smile stiffened and she breathed deeply.  For the moment she had forgot her father, who stood chained to a pillar in a vile cell.  She put her hand over her eyes and swayed.

“What is it?” he cried in alarm.

“Nothing.  I had almost forgot where I am.”

“I, too.  I am beginning to let Ahmed think for me.  Let us get back to the bungalow.”

He loved her.  And he feared her, too.  She was so unlike any young woman he had ever met that she confused his established ideas of the sex.  The cool blood of her disturbed him as much as anything.  Not a sign of that natural hysteria of woman, though she had been through enough to drive insane a dozen ordinary women.  He loved the fearless eye of her, the flat back, the deep chest, the spring with which she measured her strides.  Here at last was the true normal woman.  She was of the breed which produced heroes.

He loved her, and yet was afraid of her.  A wall seemed to surround her, and nowhere could he discover any breach.  Vaguely he wondered how the Viking made love to the Viking’s daughter.  By storm, or by guile?  Yes, he was afraid of her; afraid of her because she could walk alone.  He locked up his thoughts in his heart; for instinct advised him to say nothing now; this was no time for the declaration of love.

“It is best,” said Ahmed, “that we all remain inside the bungalow.  Ramabai, have you any plan in case Pundita does not return?”

Ramabai’s breast swelled.  “Yes, Ahmed.  I have a thousand friends in yonder city, ready at my call.  Only, this is not the time.  Still, I can call to them, and by to-morrow there will not be a stone of the palace upon another.  Be not alarmed.  Pundita will return, but mayhap alone.”

So they waited.

Now, Pundita, being a woman, was wise in the matter of lure.  She entered the city unquestioned.  She came to the palace steps just as Umballa was issuing forth.  She shivered a little—­she could not help it; the man looked so gloomy and foreboding.  The scowl warned her to walk with extreme care.

He stopped when he saw her and was surprised into according her the salute one gave to a woman of quality.

“Ah!”

“Durga Ram,” she began, “I am seeking you.”  Her voice trembled ever so little.

“Indeed!  And why do you seek me, who am your enemy, and who always will be?”

“A woman loves where she must, not where she wills.”

Umballa seemed to ponder over this truth.