The air was still and hot, for the Indian summer was now beginning to
lay its burning hand upon this great peninsula. The pale dust, the
white stucco of the buildings, blinded the eyes.
They proceeded at once to the single hotel, where they found plenty of
accommodation. Then the colonel hurried off to the cable office and
wired Winnie. Next he ascertained that the British ship Simla would
weigh anchor the following evening for Bombay; that there they could
pick up the _Delhi_, bound for England. There was nothing further to
do but wait for the answer to the colonel's cable to Winnie, which
would arrive somewhere about noon of the next day.
And that answer struck the hearts of all of them with the coldness of
death. Umballa had beaten them. Winnie had sailed weeks ago for
Allaha, in search of father and sister!
Ahmed spat out his betel-nut and squared his shoulders. Somehow he had
rather expected something like this. The reason for Umballa's
half-hearted pursuit stood forth clearly.
"Sahib, it is fate," he said. "We must return at once to Allaha.
Truly, the curse of that old guru sticks like the blood leeches of the
Bengal swamps. But as you have faith in your guru, I have faith in
mine. Not a hair of our heads shall be harmed."
"I am a very miserable man, Ahmed! God has forsaken me!" The colonel
spoke with stoic calm; he was more like the man Ahmed had formerly
known.
"No, Allah has not forsaken; he has forgot us for a time." And Ahmed
strode out to make the arrangements for the return.
"Bruce," said the colonel, "it is time for you to leave us. You are a
man. You have stood by us through thick and thin. I can not ask you
to share any of the dangers which now confront us, perhaps more
sinister than any we have yet known."
"Don't you want me?" asked Bruce quietly.
Kathlyn had gone to her room to hide her tears.
"Want you! But no!" The colonel wrung the young man's hand and turned
to go back to Kathlyn.
"Wait a moment, Colonel. Supposing I wanted to go, what then?
Supposing I should say to you what I dare not yet say to your daughter,
that I love her better than anything else in all this wide world; that
it will be happiness to follow wherever she goes . . . even unto death?"
The colonel wheeled. "Bruce, do you mean that?"
"With all my heart, sir. But please say nothing to Kathlyn till this
affair ends, one way or the other. She might be stirred by a sense of
gratitude, and later regret it. When we get out of this--and I rather
believe in the prophecy of Ahmed's guru or fakir--then I'll speak. I
have always been rather a lonely man. There's been no real good
reason. I have always desired to be loved for my own sake, and not for
the money I have."