The steamer from Karachi cast anchor not far from the Austrian Lloyd steamer Imperatrix, from Trieste, and the passengers were taken from the Apollo Bandar in small boats to the landing-stage.

Heideck took up his quarters with his new English friends at the Esplanade Hotel.  The admirably conducted house was well known to him, since he had stayed there a few days on his arrival in India.  But the appearance of the hotel had altered during the interval as completely as that of the European quarter of the city, from which all life seemed to have disappeared.  The ravages of the plague might have had something to do with it, but the main cause was the war, which made its presence felt in the absence of various elements of life which at other times were especially remarkable.

Formerly the meeting-place of fashionable society, nearly all its guests at the present time were connected with the army; the few ladies were in mourning, and an oppressive silence prevailed during meals.

Mr. Kennedy, immediately on his arrival, had paid a visit to the Governor in Heideck’s interest and returned with good news.  He had obtained permission for the young German to leave India by the Caledonia, which was starting in a few days with a considerable number of sick and wounded officers.  The route to be taken was the usual one by Aden and Port Said.  Those passengers who intended to travel further by the railway would be landed at Brindisi, the destination of the steamer being Southampton.

“So we shall have the pleasure of your company as far as Brindisi,” said Mr. Kennedy, turning to Heideck.  The latter bowed, to show the old gentleman that he had interpreted his intentions correctly.

An expression of violent alarm overspread Edith’s face, when the contradiction which she might assuredly have expected did not follow.  She got up to go to her room, but, passing close by Heideck, she found an opportunity to whisper, “To-night on the balcony!  I must speak to you!”

After dinner Heideck and Mr. Kennedy sat smoking on the terrace in front of the dining-room.  A warm sea-breeze rustled through the banyan trees, with their thick, shining arch of foliage.  Heideck again thanked the old gentleman for his kindly efforts on his behalf.

“I have only repaid to a very moderate extent all you have done for us,” replied Mr. Kennedy.  “Besides, there was no difficulty in the matter.  I told the Governor that you were a German and a friend of my family, who had rendered most valuable service to an English lady and myself.  Certainly, I thought that I might with a good conscience say nothing about your being a soldier, which might easily have caused all kinds of difficulties.  With all my patriotism, I do not reproach myself very severely for this reticence.  For what military secrets could you disclose in Berlin?  Our disasters are plain for all to see, and the papers are filled with news and conjectures.”