He fired, and with a short, dull cry of pain the fellow reeled to the ground.  The other two, horror-stricken, let go their victim.  One of them drew his sabre from the sheath and rushed upon the German.  Heideck could not fire a second time, being afraid of harming Edith, and so he threw the revolver down, and with a rapid motion, for which his adversary was fully unprepared, caught the arm of the Indian which was raised to strike.  Being much more than his match in physical strength, he wrested the sabre with a quick jerk from his grasp.  The man, now defenceless, gave up the struggle and like his companion, who had already in silent, cat-like bounds made his escape, hurried off as fast as his legs would carry him.

Heideck did not pursue him.  His only thoughts were for Edith, and his fears were that she had perhaps received some hurt at the hands of these bandits.  In the same moment that the violent hands of the Indians had let her loose, she had fallen down on the carpet, and her marble-pale face looked to Heideck as that of a dead person.  Whilst, curiously enough, neither Edith’s screams for help nor the crack of the shot had had the effect of summoning any one of her servants to her aid, now, when the danger was over, all of a sudden a few scared brown faces peered in through the open door; and the peremptory order that Heideck addressed in English to the terrified maid brought her back to her sense of duty to her mistress.

With her assistance, Heideck carried the fainting woman to a couch, and perceiving one of the little green flasks of lavender water, which are never wanting in an English house, on the table, he employed the strong perfume as well as he was able, whilst the Indian maid rubbed the soles of her young mistress’ feet, and adopted divers other methods, well known among the natives, of resuscitating her.

Under their joint attentions, Edith soon opened her eyes, and gazed with bewildered looks around her.  But on seeing lying on the floor the corpse of the Indian whom Heideck had shot, her consciousness returned with perfect clearness.

Shaking off the last traces of faintness with a firm will, she got up.

“It was you who saved me, Mr. Heideck!  You risked your life for me!  How can I thank you enough?”

“Solely, madam, by allowing me to conduct you at once to the Colonel’s house, whose protection you must necessarily claim until your husband’s return.  Whoever may have been the instigator of this hellish plot—­whether these rogues were common thieves or whether they acted on orders, I do not feel myself strong enough, single-handed, to accept the responsibility for your security.”

“You are right,” Edith replied gently.  “I will get ready at once and go with you—­but this man here,” she added, shivering, “is he dead, or can something be done for him?”

Heideck stooped down and regarded the motionless figure.  A single look into the sallow, drawn face, with the dilated, glassy eyes, sufficed to assure him that any further examination was useless.