He had loved as only hard-hammered men can love, and had married after a struggle the very thought of which would have melted the courage of an ordinary man, only to see his wife die when her child was born.  And even then, in that awful hour, he had not felt the utterness of misery such as came to him when he saw that his work in Howrah was undone.  He had given of his best, and all his best, and it seemed that he had given it for nothing.

“Who was that man, father?” asked a very weary voice through which courage seemed to live yet, as the tiniest suspicion of a sweet refrain still lives through melancholy bars.

“The man who took your home letters to Mahommed Gunga.”

“And—?”

“He has promised to try to find a man for me who will take my report on this awful business to the Resident at Abu.”

“Father, listen!  Listen, please!” Rosemary McClean drew a chair for him and knelt beside him.  Youth saved her face from being drawn as his, but the heat and horror had begun to undermine youth’s powers of resistance.  She looked more beautiful than ever, but no law lays down that a wraith shall be unlovely.  She had tried the personal appeal with him a hundred times, and argument a thousand; now, she used both in a concentrated, earnest effort to prevail over his stubborn will.  Her will was as strong as his, and yielded place to nothing but her sense of loyalty.  There were not only Rajputs, as the Rajputs knew, who could be true to a high ideal.  “I am sure that whoever that man is he must be the link between us and the safety Mahommed Gunga spoke of.  Otherwise, why does he stay behind?  Native officers who have servants take their servants with them, as a rule.”

“Well?”

“Give the word!  Let us at least get in touch with safety!”

“For myself, no.  For you, yes!  I have been weak with you, dear.  I have let my selfish pleasure in having you near me overcome my sense of duty—­that, and my faithless fear that you would not be properly provided for.  I think, too, that I have never quite induced myself to trust natives sufficiently—­even native gentlemen.  You shall go, Rosemary.  You shall go as soon as I can get word to Mahommed Gunga’s man.  Call that old woman in.”

“Father, I will not go without you, and you know it!  My place is with you, and I have quite made up my mind.  If you stay, I stay!  My presence here has saved your life a hundred times over.  No, I don’t mean just when you were ill; I mean that they dare not lay a finger on me!  They know that a nation which respects their women would strike hard and swiftly to avenge a woman of its own!  If I were to go away and leave you they would poison you or stab you within a day, and then hold a mock trial and hang some innocent or other to blind the British Government.  I would be a murderess if I left you here alone!  Come!  Come away!”