As you see I hurt my foot, and poor Darrow Sahib slipped and fell headlong into the well in the little cave.  As it has no bottom I could not, of course, get the Sahib out, and so was obliged to return, as best I could, alone.”  As he finished this heartless lie, every word of which he knew was a poisoned dart, Lona fell fainting upon the floor.  Kandia raised her gently, expecting to find her dead, but was able at length to revive her.  The first words she said were directed to Ragobah in a voice devoid of passion or reproach,—­of everything in fact save an unutterable weariness.

“I am ill,” she said; “will you permit Nana to get me some medicine which has helped me in similar attacks?” Ragobah’s reply was directed to Kandia.

“You may do as the Sahibah bids you,” was all he said.

Kandia turned to Lona for instructions and she said to him, “Get me half an ounce of—­stay, there are several ingredients—­I had better write them down.”  She wrote upon a little slip of paper, naming aloud the ingredients and quantities as she did so, and then asked Kandia to move her chair to an open window before he left.  When he had done so, she passed him the note, saying, “Please get it as quickly as possible.”  As he took the paper she seized his hand for a moment and pressed it firmly.  He noticed this at the time, but its significance did not dawn upon him until he had nearly reached his destination, when, all at once, he realised with a pang that the momentary pressure of the hand and the mute gratitude which shone from the eyes were meant as a farewell.  His first impulse was to hurriedly retrace his steps, but before he had acted upon it, the thought occurred to him that she intended to poison herself with the drugs he was about to procure.  If this were the case, there was no great need of hurry.  Then he began to recall to mind the names of the drugs she had mentioned as she wrote and to reflect that not one of them was poisonous.  With this new light all his former uneasiness returned.  He strove to reassure himself with the thought that she might, in order to mislead Ragobah, have spoken the name of a harmless drug while she wrote down that of a poisonous one.  It was easy to settle this question, and he determined to do so at the next light.  He unfolded the paper, expecting to see a prescription, but read instead these words: 

“To Moro Scindia;

“My Dear Cousin:  Death has relieved you of the task I imposed upon you.  John Darrow’s body is in the well in the cave on Malabar Hill, where, before this reaches you, my body will have also gone to meet it.  To this fragment of paper, then, must I confide the debt of gratitude I owe to you and to him who will bear it to you, Nana Kandia.  Good-bye.  If I had had two hearts, I should have given you one.  Do not mourn me, but rather rejoice that my struggle and its agony are over.  John has already gone—­one tomb shall inclose both our bodies—­how could it have been better? 
                                                      “Lona.”