“I have thought it over,” he replied.  “I shall not stay here.  I shall go to Calcutta, if I can.  It is my duty to be at my post there.”

“But how do you intend to travel?  The railways still in existence have been seized for the exclusive use of the army.  Remember that you would have to pass both armies, the Russian and the English.  You would have to go from Kalka to Ambala, and thence to Delhi.”

“If I could get a passport, I could travel post to Delhi, where I should be with the English army.  Can you get me a passport?”

“I will try.  Possibly Prince Tchajawadse may be persuaded to let me have one.  I will point out to him that you are civilian officials.”

. . . . . . .

Prince Tchajawadse most emphatically refused to make out the passport for Mr. Kennedy and his family.

“I am very sorry, my friend,” said he, “but it is simply impossible.  The Judge-Advocate-General is a very high official; I cannot allow him to go to the English headquarters and give information as to what is going on here.  The authorities would justly put a very bad construction upon such ill-timed amiability, and I should not like to obliterate the good impression which the success of the expedition to Simla has made upon my superiors by an unpardonable act of folly on my own part.”

Heideck saw that any attempt at persuasion would be useless in the face of the Prince’s determination.  He therefore acquainted Mr. Kennedy with the failure of his efforts, at the same expressing his sincere regret.

“Then I shall try to return to England,” said the old gentleman, with a sigh.  “Please ask the Prince if he has any objection to my making my way by the shortest road to Karachi?  Perhaps he will let me have a passport for this route.”

Prince Tchajawadse was quite ready to accede to this request.

“The ladies and gentlemen can travel where they please in the rear of the Russian army, for all I care,” he declared.  “There is not the least occasion for me to treat the worthy old gentleman as a prisoner.”

On the same day Heideck had a serious conversation with Edith about her immediate future.  He inquired what her wishes and plans were, but she clung to him tenderly and whispered, “My only wish is to stay with you, my only plan is to make you happy.”

Kissing her tender lips, which could utter such entrancing words, he said, deeply moved:  “Well, then, I propose that we travel together to Karachi.  I am resolved to quit the Russian service and endeavour to return to Germany.  But could you induce yourself to follow me to my country, the land of your present enemies?”

“My home is with you.  Suppose that we were to make a home here in Simla, I should be ready, and only too glad to live here for the rest of my life.  Take me to Germany or Siberia, and I will follow you—­it is all the same to me, if only I am not obliged to leave you.”