THE CHO 
 OF THE 
 
 ANDREW
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS
 
 THE CHOSEN OF 
 THE GODS 
 
 BY 
 
 ANDREW SOUTAR 
 
 AUTHOR OF "in the BLOOD," 
 
 "silent thunder," etc. 
 
 NEW EDITION 
 
 JARROLDS Publishers LONDON 
 Limited^ 34 Paternoster RoWy E.C.\
 
 Fit St published in 191; 
 
 Printed in Great Rritaiii at 
 J'ftc MavJJoucr Press, Phmouth. William Drendon & Son, Ltd.
 
 ^° vS 71^3 c 
 
 " BILLIE-BOY "
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 I. 
 
 The Secret 
 
 PAGB 
 
 9 
 
 II. 
 
 Racial Prejudice . 
 
 17 
 
 III. 
 
 A Bungalow — and a Scandal . 
 
 36 
 
 IV. 
 
 A Dream in Music . 
 
 47 
 
 V. 
 
 A Dangerous Passion 
 
 56 
 
 VI. 
 
 The Dead Seven . . . . 
 
 71 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Palm-leaf Message . 
 
 82 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Three Men and a Woman 
 
 90 
 
 IX. 
 
 The Stranger from Neon 
 
 lOI 
 
 X. 
 
 The Eyes of the Idol . 
 
 118 
 
 XI. 
 
 Trump Cards .... 
 
 130 
 
 XII. 
 
 The Other Man . . . . 
 
 141 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Solving a Mystery . 
 
 149 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The Midnight Conference 
 
 . 158 
 
 XV. 
 
 Mice and Men 
 
 165 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Will-power .... 
 
 . 179 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The Warning .... 
 
 . 192 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 A Woman's Vigil 
 
 205 
 
 XIX. 
 
 The Serpent's Tooth 
 
 232 
 
 XX. 
 
 Love and Duty 
 
 245 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Military Activity . 
 
 254 
 
 XXII. 
 
 The Treasure of the Dead . 
 
 . 262 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 The Fate of Krishna 
 
 . 38Q
 
 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE SECRET 
 
 MERCARA gasped in the pitiless white 
 sun of an Indian noonday. The 
 withered rice-fields stretched as far as the eye 
 could reach, a tract of sun-blasted land over 
 which the thin shadows of a few scattered 
 mango trees rested like the ghosts of poverty 
 and desolation. All hfe seemed to have been 
 charred and bhstered. The drowsy crooning 
 of the cicada made the stillness all the more 
 eerie, the more oppressive. The miserable 
 ryots, for whom life itself depended on the 
 yield of the rice-paddies, crouched in the slight 
 shade of their mud-huts, like silent bronze 
 idols ; their wide staring eyes were turned 
 to the east. Rain, only rain, they prayed for 
 — a few drops to moisten the crops till the 
 monsoon burst ; only the sun — the pitiless, 
 scorching, bhnding sun — was given in answer. 
 On the summit of the low-lying range of 
 hills to the south sat the Spectre of Famine ; 
 the tax-collector sat by its side. 
 
 One of the hovels stood away from the rest 
 and a few yards from the mud of the river-bed.
 
 10 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 The door was open wide, and in the shadow 
 thrown against the side of the hut was a boy 
 of twelve. He was squatting after the manner 
 of natives, his abnormally long, thin arms 
 encircling his bony knees, his chin resting on 
 his hands. A mass of straggling black hair 
 fell over a high, protruding forehead, and 
 formed a sort of screen to a pair of eyes that 
 looked out, hungrily and bitterly, at the 
 whitened landscape. A weak, thin voice called 
 from the hut : 
 
 " Krishna ! Krishna ! " 
 
 The boy slowly disengaged his hands and 
 crawled into the hut, and to the side of the 
 sick ryot, Goviandswamy. 
 
 " Krishna, has the night come ? " asked the 
 old man, passing a skeleton hand wearily 
 before his eyes. 
 
 The boy started with sudden concern, and, 
 stretching himself on the rice-mat near the sick 
 man, he looked long and anxiously into the 
 fast-glazing eyes. 
 
 "Yes, my father," he said at last," the 
 night has come." The sunlight streaming 
 through the open doorway mocked him as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " And Runga, the fakir — has he come ? " 
 asked Goviandswamy,
 
 THE SECRET ii 
 
 "No, my father, but he will come," said 
 the boy. 
 
 The old man turned his head away with 
 a despairing groan. " He will not come," 
 he muttered. " He will not come to-night, 
 and to-morrow will be too late. Call Wadi, 
 the Eurasian." 
 
 The boy frowned sullenly and made no 
 effort to rise from the bedside. 
 
 " Call him," said the old man imperatively. 
 
 " Runga will come," the boy urged ; but 
 even as he spoke the face of Wadi, the 
 Eurasian, peered in at the doorway. It was 
 a dark, evil face, and a gash in the upper 
 lip revealed a set of irregular teeth, red- 
 stained with betel-nut. He moved to the 
 side of the dying ryot, glancing reproach- 
 fully at the frowning boy, who, muttering 
 again that Runga, the fakir, would yet come, 
 sidled to the door. 
 
 " Goviandswamy, you would speak with 
 me alone," said Wadi, throwing a malignant 
 look at the boy in the doorway. 
 
 Goviandswamy stretched forth a bony 
 hand, and grasped the stooping man's dhoti. 
 " Nearer," he whispered, seeking to draw him 
 down. " Wadi, once you offered to serve me 
 with your life."
 
 12 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 The Eurasian nodded impatiently. 
 
 " You remember the night in Bombay 
 when the Mohammedans rose ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Wadi, " I remember. You 
 saved me from them, Goviandswamy. What 
 is it that you would say to me now ? " 
 
 " You are to be trusted, Wadi " 
 
 " My life is yours, Goviandswamy." 
 
 " With a secret that may bring you the 
 blessing of the gods or tortures worse than 
 death ? " 
 
 " I am ready," said Wadi, his lean fingers 
 twitching at the rice-mat. 
 
 " Runga will come," wailed the boy at the 
 door, but the ryot made only a feeble gesture 
 of impatience. 
 
 " Come nearer, Wadi," whispered Goviand- 
 swamy. " The secret which I pass on to 
 
 you is a secret " He did not finish 
 
 the sentence, for the boy Krishna leaped 
 into the hut with a cry of " Runga ! 
 Runga ! " 
 
 And with his snakes, and his ropes, and 
 his " miracle " baskets, and all about him 
 the pungent smell of the jungle, came Runga, 
 the fakir. Before he bent down to the rice- 
 mat he scrutinized the twisted face of the 
 chagrined Eurasian, as though seeking quietly
 
 THE SECRET 13 
 
 to determine what he had learned from the 
 dying ryot. Wadi rose and crept from the 
 hut. 
 
 " You are late, Runga." 
 
 The fakir nodded, and pressed his finger- 
 tips on the eyelids of the sick man, breathing 
 sharply at the discovery he made. 
 
 " The secret, Goviandswamy ? " he whis- 
 pered. 
 
 " It is here, Runga," said the ryot, touch- 
 ing his waist-cloth — " here, awaiting the 
 Chosen. You are ready, Runga ? " 
 
 The fakir bent down and whispered in the 
 ryot's ear. Goviandswamy groaned. " Then 
 who, who is to take upon himself the mission ? " 
 he asked. Runga turned his eyes towards the 
 doorway. Krishna, the boy, was sitting in 
 the midst of the fakir's baskets and cobras. 
 A white-headed snake had wriggled out of 
 captivity, and was dancing and swaying 
 before the eyes of the boy. With a cry of 
 alarm Runga sprang towards the door, but 
 before he could reach it Krishna had taken 
 the reptile by the neck and replaced it in its 
 basket. Not the slightest trace of fear rested 
 on the boy's face, and he turned to laugh 
 contemptuously at Runga.
 
 14 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " 1 have seen, Goviandswamy — seen with 
 my own eyes. The secret is for him." Runga 
 was back at the bedside of the dying ryot. 
 
 " But he is so young, Runga," the ryot 
 pleaded. 
 
 " The gods are wise," said the fakir simply. 
 
 " Call him," said Goviandswamy feebly, 
 and Krishna was brought into the hut. As 
 he knelt by the dying man his eyes were 
 turned inquiringly on the fakir, but Runga's 
 face was buried in his hands. 
 
 " Krishna," said Goviandswamy in a low 
 voice, " you are but a boy ; still, as Runga 
 says, the gods choose wisely. Before another 
 day breaks you will be alone in the world, 
 and Runga will take you to Madras. There 
 you will be committed to the care of one 
 Kuppuswamy, to whom I tenderly commend 
 you. Obey him as you would obey me, and 
 seek to profit by his wisdom. You have 
 been destined for high things, and here, in 
 the presence of Runga, I charge you to 
 perform them, cost what they may. This 
 secret " — he unloosened a red skin belt from 
 his waist and handed it to the boy — " is a 
 secret of the gods. Guard it as you would 
 guard your life itself, and when you shall 
 have reached years of discretion and wisdom,
 
 THE SECRET 15 
 
 act as the message therein dictates. In all 
 things be faithful to the Voices — the voices 
 of those brave men who have laid down 
 their lives for the Cause. Always they will 
 be watching you, guiding you. To-day they 
 are but six ; to-morrow my voice will be 
 blended in theirs. 
 
 A few sharp breaths, a few convulsions of 
 the skeleton-like frame 
 
 That night Runga, the fakir, and Krishna, 
 the boy, slept in the forest on their way to 
 Madras. 
 
 The day was breaking when Runga, aroused 
 by the hissing of his captive reptiles, sprang 
 to his feet and ran to the form of the sleeping 
 boy. 
 
 " Krishna ! Krishna ! " the fakir called. 
 
 The boy lazily opened his eyes. 
 
 " I am here, Runga," he said simply. 
 
 "And the belt— the belt!" cried the 
 trembling fakir. 
 
 The boy sat up and, drawing aside his 
 dhoti, revealed the fact that the secret had 
 disappeared. 
 
 " You need have no fear," he said quietly. 
 " Wadi guards it. See ! yonder lies the 
 Eurasian."
 
 i6 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 And so indeed he did, ten yards or more 
 from the reed couch of the boy. Runga 
 sprang towards the Hfeless body. Gripped 
 in a nerveless hand was the sacred belt, and 
 two inches down from the tip of the Eurasian's 
 chin was the blue-red mark where the snake, 
 the nulla pamhu, had struck ! 
 
 Runga refastened the belt round the waist 
 of the boy and bowed himself in prayer.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 RACIAL PREJUDICE 
 
 KRISHNA had been two years in the 
 house of Kuppuswamy. 
 
 WTiile new and lasting impressions were 
 being created daily on his young mind — a 
 natural outcome of his changed environ- 
 ment — nothing seemed capable of eradicat- 
 ing the memory of those bitter years of semi- 
 starvation that immediately preceded the 
 death of his father. When the restfulness and 
 plenty of his benefactor's house threatened 
 most to overshadow the darkness of the past, 
 there seemed to come through the two 
 dead years the echoes of those cries of 
 despair that fell from the parched lips of 
 his father, as one real or fancied Govern- 
 ment iniquity followed close on the heels of 
 another. 
 
 His faculty for observation and inquiry 
 was abnormal, and while Kuppuswamy 
 cherished, in a measure, the ideals that had 
 been but vaguely outlined for him by his 
 friend Goviandswamy, he would frequently 
 feign apathy that he might analyse more 
 closely a mind that was fast bewildering 
 him, philosopher and teacher that he was. 
 Often, when he had deemed a question by 
 
 B 17
 
 i8 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 the boy nothing more than idle curiosity, 
 the pertinence of it would suddenly strike 
 him at a later period, and open up a new 
 channel of thought. 
 
 Kuppuswamy was an influential vakil in 
 the Madras High Court. By means which 
 he preferred not to publish, not even for the 
 encouragement of discontented compatriots, 
 he had amassed considerable wealth. His 
 mode of life was simple ; his wants were 
 few, and if there was philanthropy in his 
 nature, it was exercised quietly and without 
 a suspicion of ostentation. His tastes were 
 fully satisfied by his books, his work, his 
 dreams, and his child, Lakshmi, a girl of 
 twelve, whose coming had meant the depart- 
 ing of Kuppuswamy' s mate. There was an 
 atmosphere of quiet comfort in the bungalow 
 — a comfort that many European guests had 
 envied. The vakil's friends were many and 
 varied. Wealth is a wonderful eraser of 
 racial scruples. But life with him had not 
 always been so smooth and untrammelled. 
 Sometimes of an evening as he sat on the 
 veranda of the bungalow, Lakshmi at his 
 feet, all trace of parental interest in her 
 childish prattle would cease of a sudden. 
 The half-finished cigarette would drop from
 
 RACIAL PREJUDICE 19 
 
 the slender fingers, the oval, intellectual head 
 loll forward until chin touched chest, and the 
 hard, bearded face assume a sadness of expres- 
 sian that was eloquent of bitter reflection. 
 
 When the child tired of asking unanswered 
 questions, and wearied of the fairy talk of 
 the drowsy cicada in the maples, she would 
 turn to him for the story of his thoughts. 
 And once he told her the tragedy of his 
 childhood, although it was " all in a book 
 of ancient India that he had read." The 
 sympathy even of a child will sometimes 
 ease a heavy heart. 
 
 The story was of a boy about Lakshmi's 
 age who lived in the South-west among the 
 rice-fields and the coffee plantations. The 
 monsoon had failed to keep its season, and 
 famine was rendered more hideous by the 
 brutality of the zamindar, that privileged 
 ruffian of Government creation. Driven to 
 desperation by the failure of the crops that 
 lay white- withered in the scorching sun, 
 the hungry ryots awaited the coming of the 
 collector as the hunted deer awaits the 
 foremost hound. 
 
 The father of the boy " in the book " 
 struck the first blow for emancipation — a 
 vain and ill-considered blow. He and the
 
 20 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 woman who shared his hfe paid the penalty. 
 The scene was their boy's Hfelong punish- 
 ment. The terrorized ryots, full twenty 
 strong, and armed with no more formidable 
 weapons than those with which Nature had 
 endowed them ; a regiment of towering, 
 bearded Sikhs, and a barefaced boy-officer, 
 who shrieked commands as a woman shrieks 
 when immodesty leads her into horseplay ; 
 a wild, merciless swinging of rifle-stocks, and 
 then the score of brown, cowardly, accusing 
 fingers levelled at the ringleaders ; a quick, 
 short trial, devoid of all semblance of justice, 
 the asking and answering of a few curt 
 questions, and man and wife stood together 
 beneath the mango-trees, their faces turned 
 to the east, her hand in his, the light of 
 martyrdom in their flashing eyes, the sneer 
 of contempt for this '' justice " playing 
 around their dilated nostrils ; a shriek from 
 the boy-ofiicer, the hiss and spit of half a 
 dozen rifles, a scream of pain from the 
 faithful wife as she leapt high in the air and 
 fell across the prostrate body of her man, 
 who had died without a groan. 
 
 " And the boy, my father ? " queried the 
 weeping Lakshmi, when she had heard the 
 tale thus far.
 
 RACIAL PREJUDICE 21 
 
 " The gods were good, my child. He was 
 befriended by one who received him into his 
 house at the risk of losing his own liberty 
 and privileges, such as they were. This man 
 had a son of his own, who received the little 
 stranger as he might have received a brother. 
 The head of the house was a man of lofty 
 thought and ideals. He was much given to 
 study, and of an evening would impart to the 
 two boys some portion of his store of know- 
 ledge. Together they grew into manhood, 
 and together pursued their researches into 
 the history of the people and the conditions 
 under which they lived." 
 
 "And ?" 
 
 " Inquisitive child ! " he laughed fondly. 
 " They married, and for many years their 
 paths in life lay apart. The one had a son, 
 the other a daughter, and the two were 
 betrothed, as is customary among our people." 
 
 " And did they marry ? " 
 
 " child of mine ! Did ever tongue 
 move so freely, or mind so quickly ? No, 
 my child, the two are but children this 
 day : the boy an orphan, the girl — ^well, 
 weU, she is about thy age, child, and as fair 
 of face." 
 
 " I should like to have known the boy,"
 
 22 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 said the child simply, brushing away the tears 
 from her eyes. " I wonder ! I wonder ! " 
 
 And Kuppuswamy, drawing her closer to 
 him, sighed in the dying twilight. 
 
 It was into this house that Krishna, the 
 son of Goviandswamy, came. To the child 
 Lakshmi he was an enigma from the first 
 moment of their meeting, when he gravely 
 eyed her, and touched her long black hair, 
 as though she were some new species of wild- 
 cat. When she attempted to break through 
 his reticence and interest him in her babyish 
 fancies, he turned from her with a pitying 
 smile and a beseeching glance at Kuppuswamy. 
 
 *' Krishna is not as other boys," her father 
 had said soothingly, as the child wept out 
 her disappointment at his feet. " He is 
 alone in the world, dependent on the studies 
 of his youth for his bread as a man." And 
 Krishna's eyes expressed his gratitude for 
 the intervention. 
 
 But the philosopher was unprepared for 
 the not unwelcome trap into which he had 
 unwarily wandered. 
 
 " Yes," the boy cried, with an eagerness 
 that stirred his whole frame, as the wind 
 stirs the leaves of a forest, " I want to study ; 
 I want to think ; I want to learn ! "
 
 RACIAL PREJUDICE 23 
 
 " And what do you wish most to learn ? " 
 Kuppuswamy asked quietly, thinking to 
 gratify the wish in a single answer. 
 
 " To learn ? " The boy crept nearer to 
 his benefactor, and with hands outstretched 
 imploringly, " I want to learn the meaning 
 of racial prejudice," he said solemnly. " Yes, 
 that's it — racial prejudice, for so the student 
 called it — the tall man who stood with the 
 others near the Rajah's seat at Mercara 
 when Runga and I passed through." 
 
 " I know not of what you talk, my son," 
 said Kuppuswamy gently, fearing to drop 
 the first seed of discontent on a soil that 
 seemed so fertile. 
 
 " Runga knew," said the boy suUenly, 
 " but it was past his speech to make it clear 
 
 to me. At least, he showed me " The 
 
 boy hesitated. 
 
 " He showed you " the vakil prompted. 
 
 " I will tell you, Kuppuswamy," said the 
 boy, voluntarily settling at his feet and 
 fixing his eyes upon him. " You remember 
 the fort of Kotay, that lies to the south of 
 Mercara as you cross the town with the river 
 on the left — the fort that the ancient Rajahs 
 built for battle and the white sahibs and 
 their memsahibs use for their games with
 
 24 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 the ball ? We stood near the outer wall, 
 Runga and I, watching the white ball fly 
 as the bat flies at twilight, and listening to 
 the memsahibs swear in our Hindustani at 
 the weary ball wala. Soon a ball -came over 
 the fortress wall, and rolled to the spot where 
 we were standing. I picked it up as it lay 
 at my feet, and, thinking to amuse the sahib 
 who sprang over the wall in pursuit, I held 
 it in my open palm before his very eyes. As 
 he put out his hand to take it, lo ! it vanished ! 
 It was a trick that Runga taught me, but the 
 sahib did not laugh as the villagers had done. 
 ' Black spawn of the devil ! ' he called out, 
 and felled me with a blow. When good 
 Runga came to my assistance, the sahib 
 raised his voice in alarm, and many of his 
 friends rushed upon us, with their dogs and 
 their whips. What had I done ? I returned 
 their ball even before the sahib had recovered 
 from his surprise at its disappearance. The 
 trick was well done. Runga said as much, 
 but ' racial prejudice ' spoilt it. So said 
 Runga. Had I been white of skin, he said, 
 the sahib would have called his memsahibs 
 round me and praised me for my skiM." 
 
 " It was but a small matter, my son," 
 said Kuppuswamy, smiling at the boy's
 
 RACIAL PREJUDICE 25 
 
 indignation. " Perhaps the sahib feared you 
 meant to steal the ball and interfere with 
 their game. Remember, it was his ball." 
 
 " But whose fort is it ? " the boy demanded 
 hercely. " TeU me that ! " 
 
 " Pish ! child, you are as impetuous as a 
 woman of thirty. It is not for you nor me to 
 think of these things and in this manner. 
 What the gods have willed man cannot set 
 aside in mere caprice. It is not for you nor 
 me to question the rights by which we are 
 the ruled and not the rulers ; we must 
 submerge our cherished ideals and learn to 
 obey." 
 
 He rose and left the boy to ponder over 
 the problem. That very night, as Kuppu- 
 swamy sat alone in the apartment which 
 answered the purposes of a study, a faint 
 knock at the door aroused him from the 
 dreams into which he had lapsed. The 
 hour was late and there was suspicion in 
 the voice that inquired the name of the 
 intruder. 
 
 "It is I — Krishna ! " was the reply ; and 
 with an exclamation of surprise the philo- 
 sopher threw wide the door. The boy, clad 
 only in his night attire, was standing on the 
 threshold !
 
 26 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 But it was not the Krishna of two or 
 three hours before. The black hair was 
 dishevelled and hung about the face as the 
 dank seaweed hangs to the face of the ocean's 
 dead. And the face ! The brown skin had 
 assumed a lighter and a ghastly appearance ; 
 at the corners of the eyes it was actually 
 shrivelled. The cheeks were sunken and the 
 lower lip overlapped the upper. The veins 
 of the long, slender neck stood out like 
 knotted strings. The eyes of the boy terrified 
 the man. Wide and staring, they held him 
 spellbound with the intenseness of their 
 scrutiny. Standing there, with the darkness 
 of the room without for a background, the 
 yellow light of the study lamp playing upon 
 his twitching, unnatural face, and his white 
 linen night robes thrown loosely round him, 
 the boy seemed like some prematurely old 
 man newly risen from the tomb. 
 
 " Krishna ! " the man gasped. " What ails 
 thee, child ? " 
 
 The boy moved slowly forward, then 
 clutched him by the hand. For a moment 
 he stood, dazed and seemingly weakened by 
 the mental agony which obviously he had 
 suffered. Kuppuswamy passed his hand 
 over the boy's forehead, and uttered a cry
 
 RACIAL PREJUDICE 27 
 
 of horror as he quickly withdrew it, cold and 
 wet and clammy. 
 
 " What has happened, boy ? " 
 
 The sound of the agitated voice awakened 
 the boy, and, shivering slightly, he released 
 Kuppuswamy's hand, only to wind his long 
 arms about the startled man's neck. 
 
 " Kuppuswamy " — the voice was low and 
 quavering — " I offended you to-night ; I ask 
 your pardon." 
 
 " Pish, child ! I did not think of it in that 
 light. But what has that to do with — ^with 
 this ? " and he held the boy at arm's length, 
 the better to survey him. 
 
 " This ? " Krishna smiled feebly. " 'Tis 
 nothing, my father. Only once before they 
 —I Ugh, how cold it is ! " 
 
 The man hurriedly threw a blanket round 
 him and, compelling him to sit at his feet, 
 plied him with questions. But the boy only 
 shook his head, as though his mind were 
 incapable of piecing together the hetero- 
 geneous fragments of the horror that appeared 
 to have visited him. 
 
 " Tell me, Kuppuswamy," he cried sud- 
 denly and appealingly, " tell me more of 
 what we spoke of this evening — of India, 
 her people, her slaves, her rise, her fall, and
 
 28 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 the Mutiny, the bloody Mutiny. Ah ! tell 
 me of that, Kuppuswamy — tell me of those 
 who have risen in arms against the tyranny 
 of the invaders." 
 
 " I know not, child. You are mad ! " 
 
 " You lie ! " 
 
 The boy had sprung to his feet, and his 
 willowy fingers entwined themselves in the 
 beard of the man before him. " You lie ! " 
 he shrieked. " You know of these things, 
 but your heart is white and craven, and you 
 fear the lash of the white sahibs." 
 
 " Krishna ! " The man tore the boy from 
 him, and held him forcibly in a chair until 
 the fit had passed. Then, when the scalding 
 tears of repentance poured in a stream down 
 the child's face, the vakil took him in his 
 arms, as he might have taken a new-born 
 babe, and wept. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I pardon thee, Krishna," he 
 said, as the boy sobbed in his arms. " Thou 
 art a strange child. But the gods are wise. 
 If it is that thy mind runs on these things, 
 all else being obliterated, depend upon it a 
 path has been chosen for thee, and it is not 
 for me to discourage thee by frown or speech." 
 
 " But, Kuppuswamy, help me not to think 
 as I do ; let me live as others. I am a boy,
 
 RACIAL PREJUDICE 29 
 
 yet I bear the burden of a man. My mind 
 cries out for food that is beyond me. Give it 
 me, satisfy me, and let me rest ! " 
 
 " What can I tell thee, child ? My own 
 mind is chaotic with this sudden eruption." 
 
 " Kuppuswamy " — the word was spoken 
 in an awesome whisper, and the boy glanced 
 fearfully round the room before he continued 
 — " have you ever heard of the Dead 
 Seven ? " 
 
 A sudden wave of understanding mingled 
 with indignation swept over the man. 
 
 " I see it now," he mused. " Tell me, child, 
 who has dared to disturb the peace of thy 
 youth by the recital of a tale that is almost 
 a legend." 
 
 " No one, Kuppuswamy. But tell me the 
 tale or legend. I want to hear it. I — I must 
 hear it." 
 
 " What a child it is ! " the old man sighed. 
 " Well, if it will serve to pacify, I will tell all I 
 know of the story. I said it was a legend, but 
 if my memory be not at fault, the inception of 
 the Society of Reformers dates back only to 
 those ten years which immediately followed 
 the great Mutiny. The administration of the 
 country then was very much the same as it is 
 to-day. The Indian Empire belongs to
 
 30 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 Britain, and Britain, boy, stands to-day as 
 the greatest colonizer the world has ever 
 known. The methods by which they subju- 
 gated the Indians and now control them 
 have ever seemed passing strange to the 
 native student. In the name of civilization 
 they sent us men to teach us modern ideas. 
 They brought with them all the vices of the 
 West, and few of its virtues. From the very 
 first they bred distrust and hatred. Once 
 upon a time this country was rich in natural 
 stores. They taught us how to sow and 
 reap. There their teaching ended. ' India 
 for the Britons ' was the principle on which 
 they civilized us. They sent us taskmasters, 
 men who rode roughshod over the natives 
 with firearms in their belts and dog-whips in 
 their hands. Floggings for alleged sedition 
 were daily occurrences. In every possible 
 way they showed us that we were the 
 conquered, they the conquerors. There was 
 no respect for the vanquished, no trace of 
 sympathy between the men who came to rule 
 and the men who had been compelled to 
 surrender their country. 
 
 " We had toiled like men before in order 
 that our wives and children might have 
 bread, but we toiled like slaves under the
 
 RACIAL PREJUDICE 31 
 
 rulers. Taxes were levied and collected before 
 the grain was garnered. Against this par- 
 ticular form of cruelty the ryots raised their 
 voices in bitterness, and through the inter- 
 vention of the Great White Mother the form 
 of taxation was altered. The zamindar 
 system was introduced, and while it relieved 
 the conscience of the Government, it meant 
 a new lash for the natives. Under this 
 system the land was cut and apportioned to 
 those lucre ghouls which are to be found in 
 every country. They gladly paid a fixed 
 rental to the Government, knowing full well 
 that they could exact what they pleased 
 from the ryots. Evictions were daily occur- 
 rences in every village, but what could the 
 ryots do when behind the zamindar was an 
 incombatable power ? 
 
 " Oh yes, they taught us the meaning of 
 litigation, but only a few misguided people 
 appealed to it, for the procedure was a 
 travesty of justice. They drafted a legal 
 code for the protection of all inhabitants of 
 the country. I have known a white official 
 to be tried for the murder of his native boy, 
 whom he had shot because the lad stole one 
 of his cigars. The trial lasted three weeks, 
 because the judge who heard it was out
 
 32 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 shooting most of the time — ay, and shooting 
 over the estates of the man who was on trial 
 for his life. 
 
 " It was in these circumstances that the 
 Society of Reformers was formed. It was 
 constituted of seven of the most intellectual 
 and best-read men in the country, and by 
 means of pamphlet and oratory they appealed 
 to the masses to stand firm in their demands 
 of the British Government. They aimed at a 
 thorough political emancipation, although 
 they would have been better advised to strike 
 only for self-government on the lines adopted 
 in other countries of the Empire. They 
 asked for a reduction of the military expendi- 
 ture, and of the pensions and salaries of the 
 civil officials who were spread like locusts 
 over the land. ' Help us to develop our own 
 country,' they cried, ' by taxing the foreign 
 competitor and making use of our raw 
 materials ; help us to irrigate the land and 
 avert the famines which rob us of those we 
 love.' 
 
 " But a deaf ear was turned to these 
 entreaties, and four of the seven paid for 
 their audacity with their lives. I cannot tell 
 you how they died, but I fear that Justice, 
 the many-faced jade, demanded their lives
 
 RACIAL PREJUDICE 33 
 
 on the ground of sedition. The remaining 
 three pursued their crusade, but while they 
 could count on many adherents, the lack of 
 funds stifled their efforts completely. 
 
 " Then one day a fakir from Burma reached 
 the province of Coorg, and unearthed the 
 whereabouts of the three agitators. To 
 them he told a wonderful tale of a visitation 
 that he had experienced. They paid him 
 that respect which all Indians pay those who 
 are in touch with the occult. The more 
 enlightened European terms it superstition 
 yet in the same breath he prates of the genius 
 of a poet who wrote that there were more 
 thingsin heaven and earth than were dreamed 
 of in our philosophy. Because his mind is 
 untutored in the ways of the East the Western 
 scientist laughs our mysticism to scorn. 
 Children and fools laugh at that which they 
 cannot understand. 
 
 " The fakir told the three that their labours 
 were in vain, and that the ends they aimed at 
 would never be achieved by their endeavours 
 alone. ' But,' he said, ' it is written in the 
 book of the gods that one shaU rise up from 
 the people of the nation and free ye from 
 the yoke of the oppressors. He is not known 
 to ye, but from the grave ye wiU foUow his
 
 34 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 steps one by one, counsel him with your 
 wisdom, warn him of impending danger. In 
 his hands hes the destiny of the nation, but 
 other hands across the seas will bring him 
 strength that ye dream not of.' " 
 
 " Is that all, Kuppuswamy ? " asked the 
 listening boy, as the old man paused in his 
 narrative. 
 
 " Not quite, child, although of the re- 
 mainder I have but an imperfect knowledge. 
 It is said that some time after the visit of 
 the fakir, who, by the way, disappeared as 
 mysteriously as he came, one of the three 
 received from an unknown source a waist- 
 belt of tiger-skin, dyed the colour of blood. 
 Sewn up inside the belt were three letters 
 pricked in palm-leaves. One that was wholly 
 intelligible to the Reformers warned them to 
 guard the secrets of the belt with their lives, 
 for they meant the emancipation of the race. 
 They were to study the cipher in which the 
 messages were pricked, and if they were then 
 unable to solve it they must await the coming 
 of the Chosen. The seven are now dead, and 
 no one knows what became of their secret. 
 If the story be not a mere legend, it is prob- 
 able that after the death of the seventh the 
 undeciphered messages fell into the hands of
 
 RACIAL PREJUDICE 35 
 
 a creditor, who, judging them on their face- 
 value, destroyed them. One, it is beHeved, 
 held the key to unlimited wealth, which 
 could be used in the great work of uplifting 
 India ; the other being a scheme by which 
 the work could be successfully carried out. 
 
 " That is the end of the story, child, but — 
 why, come, what is this ? " 
 
 The boy's head had fallen forward against 
 the philosopher's knee, and he was trembling 
 as though seized with the first symptoms of 
 the plague. Kuppuswamy picked him up in 
 his arms and carried him to his room.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 A BUNGALOW — AND A SCANDAL 
 
 MAN'S inhumanity to woman cannot 
 be more aptly illustrated than in the 
 case of a faithful and trusting wife who 
 allows herself to be dragged across the ocean 
 and dropped into a hill bungalow under an 
 enervating Indian sun. If she goes there 
 doubting in her heart that the East holds 
 compensations for what she must perforce 
 leave behind her in the West, but bravely 
 determined to make the best of things, she 
 may worry through for a couple of years 
 without any great inconvenience. 
 
 She will find that at least one gratifying 
 feature of the life is that of being a more 
 important personage in her bungalow than 
 she was in her flat in Kensington. It will 
 please her vanity, if she be of that tempera- 
 ment, to find that her social status can 
 undergo a wonderful metamorphosis even in 
 a single night. " Seasons " do not count in 
 India. Her husband, even though he holds 
 only a minor magistracy, will assume a new 
 dignity of which she had not thought him 
 capable in the old days. Invitations to 
 various functions, where a Colonel or a 
 couple of Majors are thrown in free gratis, 
 
 36
 
 A BUNGALOW— AND A SCANDAL 37 
 
 will speedily obliterate the memory of trades- 
 men's " hops," or quiet little dinners a deux 
 in Rupert or Wardour Street. She will smile 
 complacently, even admiringly, at the man 
 who has effected all this as she drives with 
 him into the city in their yellow-wheeled 
 chaise ; and when she returns in the heat of 
 the day to doze on the veranda, with an iced 
 flip at her elbow and the punkah moving 
 lazily over her head, she will, perhaps, chide 
 herself for having entertained thoughts of 
 distrust when she left Tilbury. 
 
 And then the disillusionment period begins. 
 Her social grandeur takes on another and a 
 more insignificant hue. She realizes that in 
 her first calculations of the conditions she 
 made no allowance for the change of environ- 
 ment. She begins to understand why a 
 house-fly in Kensington is a butterfly in 
 Madras. Then comes the period of depres- 
 sion. The deadly monotony of the routine 
 makes her " nervy," and she hankers after 
 novelties as a child after candies. Anything, 
 anything, will do, if it will bring only mo- 
 mentary relief from the hideous sameness of 
 things. 
 
 Mrs. James Slaney-Dennis (it used to be 
 plain "J. S. Dennis" in the old days) had
 
 38 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 been in Madras five years. Naturally, she 
 had long passed the satisfied stage, had sunk 
 deep in the depression, and was now standing 
 on the threshold of desperation. To be 
 truthful, she was lying on it when Mr. James 
 Slaney-D., ex-devil to a Temple barrister 
 and now a full- and fly-blown magistrate, 
 sauntered up and placed before her a new 
 novelty for her jaded palate. 
 
 " Bit risky, isn't it ? " She had lifted her 
 freckled eyelids, and was looking at him in 
 mild astonishment from the cushioned rattan 
 chair. 
 
 " Trifle," he agreed, throwing a banana 
 with great precision at the weary punkah- 
 wala. " There's only Major Skew that's 
 hkely to kick ; but Graham was fearfully in 
 earnest, otherwise 1 shouldn't have enter- 
 tained the idea for a moment. One must 
 keep up appearances." 
 
 " Graham is fearfully in earnest about most 
 things — for a time," she replied. " Just kick 
 that wala again, Jimmy, dear. You pay that 
 little beast too much ; he's getting fat and 
 lazy." 
 
 " One rupee a month, my dear. Elec- 
 tricity's dearer, and you don't get your fair 
 share of blow out of the punkah."
 
 A BUNGALOW— AND A SCANDAL 39 
 
 " That's it. Go on ! Why don't you ask 
 me to get up an' fan him ? You should have 
 been a missionary, James ; your heart's too 
 soft." 
 
 He sighed despairingly and rearranged her 
 cushions. " This damned heat would make 
 anything soft," he growled, then smiled at 
 his own facetiousness. 
 
 " Then why don't we get out of it ? " 
 she demanded, raising herself from a 
 recumbent position and punching the pillow 
 vigorously. 
 
 "So we shall, my dear, when Graham's 
 ready for Edinburgh. But get back to the 
 starting-point. He wants to invite this 
 friend of his. Although I can't see that a 
 native student will spoil a garden-party, 
 you never know how the others may take 
 it." 
 
 " Who is he, anyway ? " 
 
 " Graham calls him a wonder, a genius — 
 but you know Graham's talk. Says he 
 walked through his exams, like a stoat 
 through a fowl-house, and turned the college 
 masters green with envy by his essays on 
 political economy." 
 
 " Has that anything to do with domestic 
 economy, Jimmy ? " She looked at him
 
 40 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 seriously. " He might give me a hint on the 
 treatment of his nigger friends that you pay 
 your good money to. I'd Uke to bludgeon 
 that cook." 
 
 He smiled wearily. " Here's Graham him- 
 self," he said thankfully. " You can talk it 
 over with him, Elsie," and he turned on his 
 heel and went into the house. 
 
 Graham Dennis was a young man of 
 twenty, well-built, fair-haired, and as freckled 
 as his mother. Before entering Merchants' 
 Universal College, two years earlier, he had 
 gone the pace with the rest of the white young- 
 sters in the neighbourhood who had the 
 misfortune to be sons of hard-working and 
 doting parents. His complexion showed signs 
 of a little wildness, but " climate " is always 
 an excuse to be considered. His studies at 
 college, however, had earned the commenda- 
 tion of his masters, and there was some 
 justification for the hopes of his parents that 
 Graham Dennis, M.D., would yet be a credit 
 to the family. He came on to the veranda 
 with a cheery " Hot, mater ? " and, at her 
 quick command to kick the punkah-wala 
 soundly, promptly obeyed before settling 
 himself in a chair by her side. The punkah- 
 wala seemed to be distinctly fortunate in
 
 A BUNGALOW— AND A SCANDAL 41 
 
 this : the Dennis family consisted of only 
 three persons. 
 
 " Pater mentioned it, eh ? " He reached 
 over and drank what remained of her iced 
 flip. 
 
 She turned to him with a bored expression 
 on her face. " Said something about a 
 medical student you wished to invite to the 
 garden-party on Thursday — a nig " 
 
 " A gentleman, mater — really a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 " He'll be a novelty, anyway." 
 
 He ignored the jest. " Honestly, mater, 
 he's the most remarkable fellow I ever struck 
 out here, and you know I'm not keen on 
 coloured goods. He may be a native, but 
 you mark my words : he'll make some 
 of our fellows hustle when he gets to 
 Edinburgh." 
 
 " A swatter, Grahamy boy ? Not your 
 style." 
 
 " He's not a swatter, and he is my style. 
 He's the style of most of the fellows at 
 college. They gave him the usual spike at 
 first — thought him one of your obsequious, 
 book-grubbing walas. But if you'd seen him 
 tackle them at their own game, you'd have 
 shrieked ' bully ' for him. Big, tall, fine
 
 42 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 chap, with a face like a baby's when he's out 
 for a game, and a face that's a hundred years 
 old when he's got a fit of swat on him. He 
 put an unholy fear into Grubb in the lecture- 
 room first week he came. You remember 
 Grubb — shipping people — the big fellow with 
 the bulbous nose ? " 
 
 She shook her head and smiled at his 
 description. 
 
 " Not Grubb — the fellow who broke the 
 ' cham.' bottle on the punkah- wala's head 
 the day he came to tiffin ? " 
 
 A broad smile of happy recollection. 
 
 " Well, Grubb heaved a fourth rib at him 
 in a fit of temper, and — well, he heaved 
 Grubb into the corner of the room as though 
 he were a rotten melon. When the mighty 
 Grubb came to I thought there was going to 
 be another job for the pater — one of those 
 ' unfortunate accident ' jobs, you know. But 
 before he got half-way across the room, with 
 venom in his eye and sulphur on his tongue, 
 he stopped dead. His face was as white as 
 my cummerbund, and he shrank back in the 
 corner like a whipped pup, crying out that 
 the fellow's eyes were burning holes in 
 him." 
 
 " And were they ? " She asked the question
 
 A BUNGALOW— AND A SCANDAL 43 
 
 listlessly, and he leaned over and pinched her 
 cheek. 
 
 " It was funk, sheer funk, that's all, and 
 he's kept clear of Krishna since." 
 
 " Krishna ! Nice name. Wonder what 
 Major Skew will think of it ? " 
 
 " The noble Skew can think what he 
 pleases. One of these days he'll be getting 
 in the way of a bullet. He's awfully reckless 
 at a rabbit-drive. He may be glad of the 
 services of Krishna, for what that fellow 
 doesn't know of punctures and plasters 
 Edinburgh won't teach him." 
 
 She smiled at his ardour. " And, then, 
 
 there's " she commenced, glancing sharply 
 
 at him. 
 
 He caught the meaning of the glance and 
 turned away confusedly. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Charlotte Bressane, the 
 charming young mystery of Agra Nook, 
 who dropped from the rigging of a coaster 
 one line morn, and speedily became the 
 coveted of every Anglo-Indian " 
 
 " Graham ! " 
 
 " Ail right, I won't give them a name. 
 But seriously, mater, 1 don't think you can 
 reasonably claim to be the guardian and 
 protector of the lady's feelings, however
 
 44 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 sensitive they may be on racial humbug. 
 I call Krishna ' friend,' and a tried friend. 
 You afe my mother, and " 
 
 There was a real maternal tenderness in 
 the way in which she placed her hand on his 
 and allowed her eyes to rest on his expansive, 
 perspiring, open face. 
 
 " Personally," he went on, in a somewhat 
 aggrieved tone of voice, " personally, I think 
 that Miss Bressane will receive Krishna as 
 an equal. She is not a racial fanatic, and 
 he has a wonderful way of compelling your 
 respect, and " — his voice was strangely 
 modulated — " and she is a lady, and a very 
 charming lady." 
 
 The woman on the chair turned an inquir- 
 ing look upon him, but the gravity of his 
 countenance was only transient. He avoided 
 her glance, and occupied himself in selecting 
 a large and particularly soft banana, with 
 which to pelt the punkah-wala. 
 
 " Attractive," said Mrs. Dennis laconically. 
 
 " Handsome," he quahfied. 
 
 " Accomplished, and — and " 
 
 He turned quickly at the pause. 
 
 " And " he prompted. 
 
 " The Platonic friend of His Unimpeach- 
 able Majesty, Major Skew."
 
 A BUNGALOW— AND A SCANDAL 45 
 
 He laughed loudly. " Mater, mater," he 
 cried, " you should have been the magistrate, 
 and given the poor old pater the job of 
 holding garden-parties and smiling impartially 
 on everybody, whether they deserved it or 
 not." 
 
 " Ah, well, let it go at that," she muttered 
 sleepily, making herself more comfortable in 
 the chair and closing her eyes. " Invite your 
 friend, and let's have a look at the wonder. 
 Feel interested — slightly. Anything for a 
 change. \\'hew-w ! What a hole of a country ! 
 Grahamy boy, promise that you'll never let 
 me die here. Oh for one half -hour of London ! " 
 
 " Poor old mater ! " He rose and crossed 
 the veranda. 
 
 " Suppose it'll be all right ? " she called 
 out dreamily. " Hope Miss Bressane won't 
 be huffed. She's awfully prejudiced. So's the 
 Major, and — we — can't — afford " 
 
 He laughed back at her and went down 
 the steps. 
 
 " Hope she won't be too interested, that's 
 all," he threw back. " The Major is awfully 
 prejudiced. Any letters for post, mater ? " 
 
 ".No, dear. Don't worry. Haven't had a 
 wink all day." 
 
 " Sorry. By-by ! "
 
 46 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " Say, Grahamy boy ! " 
 
 " Yes \ " He was half-way down the 
 garden. 
 
 " Just kick the punkah-wala before you 
 go, there's a dear."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A DREAM IN MUSIC 
 
 THE Slaney-Dennis garden-party was 
 always a gilt-edged attraction. Al- 
 though in nowise approaching the voluptuous 
 extravagance of many other similar functions 
 in the Province, the Number One Europeans 
 of Madras never failed to mark the Hill 
 engagement " important " in their diaries, 
 and usually arrived in numbers that were 
 the despair of more distinguished hostesses. 
 Men and women were drawn there by the 
 same irresistible something that leads the 
 stock-and-share princes of Throgmorton Street 
 to pass luxuriously embellished restaurants 
 and lunch in murky little dens in the neigh- 
 bourhood of the Bank of England. Mrs. 
 Dennis's success as a hostess was due mainly 
 to one magnetic quality : she had a sharp 
 and biting tongue, and scandal, meat and 
 drink to your effete Anglo-Indian, rolled off 
 the tip of that tongue like jets of flame 
 leaping from the muzzle of a Maxim. Scandal 
 would fill a church, when truth and modesty 
 would empty a theatre. 
 
 Men and women whose chief mission in 
 life was the dangerous one of killing time 
 and reputations gathered at the feet of Mrs. 
 
 47
 
 48 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 Dennis. Theirs were the mixed feehngs of 
 delight and doubt that school-children experi- 
 ence when compelled to witness the spanking 
 of a misdemeanant. 
 
 This particular garden-party was expected 
 to be no less a success than its predecessors. 
 It proved a milestone in the lives of one or 
 two of the guests. 
 
 Mrs. Slaney-Dennis had a pretty taste 
 in illumination schemes, and the tiny multi- 
 coloured glow-lamps, cunningly hung in palm 
 and mango, enhanced the romance even of a 
 tropical garden. The guests moved in and 
 out of the arbours with characteristic languor. 
 The talk was generally " small " — ^the 
 hostess's preliminary duties were not yet 
 accomplished. Like most of the ladies 
 present, she was dressed in white pongee 
 silk, but in startling defiance of complexion 
 " tones," a scarlet rose was dropped with 
 seeming carelessness amid her auburn hair. 
 
 In a secluded corner of the garden Mr. 
 Slaney-Dennis, painfully resplendent in 
 tussore silk with sovereign buttons, puffed 
 laboriously at a black cheroot, and " thought 
 things." It was somewhat late in the evening 
 when his ruminations were disturbed by the 
 irrepressible Graham, who forced his way
 
 A DREAM IN MUSIC 49 
 
 through the crowd of guests. He was followed 
 by one whose advent in the garden checked 
 the buzz of conversation, and spread astonish- 
 ment over the countenances of the majority. 
 
 " Allow me, pater. Krishna, my respected 
 father ; father, my friend Krishna, the foster- 
 son of Kuppuswamy, the vakil, well known to 
 you, I believe." 
 
 Mr. Dennis found himself rising slowly 
 from his seat and holding out the hand of 
 welcome to a tall, dignified young Indian 
 student. In the subdued light of an over- 
 hanging rose-lantern the dark face in repose 
 reminded the magistrate of Irving's Hamlet. 
 And he felt instinctively that behind the 
 grave eyes, whose gaze was resting on him, 
 there burned the fire of an almost super- 
 natural ambition. 
 
 " Graham has made your name quite 
 familiar to us," said the magistrate, with 
 just a shade of condescension in his 
 voice. 
 
 A soft, pleasant laugh broke from between 
 the thin lips. " The friendship of your son 
 has been one of the pleasures of my term 
 at college. The kindness of his parents will, 
 I trust, be a memory that I shall always 
 treasure."
 
 50 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 Then Graham took him by the arm and 
 led him in search of the " mater," Dennis 
 senior following with his eyes the willowy 
 figure in grey, until it was lost in the maze 
 of guests. 
 
 Mrs. Dennis's freckled and perspiring face 
 was clouded with disappointment when the 
 two reached her side. A native prodigy who 
 had promised to play the harp at her garden- 
 party had failed to put in an appearance. 
 Probably a friendly neighbour had discovered 
 the man's price and bid two rupees more. 
 The musical programme was in danger of 
 being dubbed " minor " by the spiteful local 
 European journals. 
 
 " What can I do ? " she was saying to a 
 sympathetic friend. " What can anyone do 
 if they've got these beastly niggers to depend 
 
 on for anything ? I should " She stopped 
 
 short when she caught sight of the stranger 
 standing behind her son, flushed uncomfort- 
 ably, and turned an appealing look on 
 Graham, who came to her rescue in his usual 
 free and open manner. 
 
 " Shouldn't let trifles help the heat in its 
 work," he said laughingly. " This is my 
 friend Krishna, of whom I spoke the other 
 day. Perhaps he can help you out of the
 
 A DREAM IN MUSIC 51 
 
 mess. What do you say, Krish ? The 
 mater's short of a one-man opera." 
 
 The remark was made playfully. If it 
 served the purpose of smoothing over his 
 mother's unfortunate slip, Graham would be 
 satisfied. 
 
 " I deeply sympathize with you, madam." 
 Krishna had stepped forward, and she flinched 
 before the scrutiny of his piercing eyes. " Can- 
 not you find a substitute ? " 
 
 " Impossible ! " She tried to avoid his 
 gaze and addressed herself to Graham. 
 " There's only Miss Bressane among the 
 whole of the crowd who has anything of a 
 voice, and the Major yonder seems to hold 
 the copyright." 
 
 " Let the beggars amuse themselves," sug- 
 gested the practical Graham, a remark which 
 served only to increase the ill-temper of the 
 hostess. 
 
 " Will you allow me, madam, to offer my 
 humble services ? I'm rather fond of amusing 
 myself with the violin when medicine palls." 
 
 " Bravo, Krishna ! I told you, mater, he's 
 a regular handy man. Send for the guv'nor's 
 old fiddle. I'll warrant Krish '11 knock a 
 tune out of it." 
 
 The violin was produced — one of those
 
 52 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 cheap imitations of a " Strad," that play 
 havoc with a neighbour's nerves. Krishna 
 took it gravely, ran his thumb across the 
 strings, and stepping across to the piano, 
 struck a chord. With conventional indiffer- 
 ence the guests continued their chatter after 
 glancing at the tall, dark stranger who stood 
 tuning the instrument that never before had 
 known the sound of melody. He walked to 
 the edge of the veranda, and threw a rapid 
 glance at his audience, as though to deter- 
 mine in his own mind the extent of their 
 critical faculties before he commenced to 
 play ; then he raised the violin to his 
 chin. 
 
 I he ruby glow-lamps above his head tinged 
 his dark cheeks and made them shine like 
 bronze. A slight breeze, fragrant with the 
 smell of wild herbs of the hill-side, sprang up 
 and tossed his long hair over his massive fore- 
 head, until it seemed to form a protective 
 network of black bushes, through which 
 gleamed two bright, soulful eyes. About 
 the corners of the thin, cruel lips a smile 
 of bitter contempt came and went, and came 
 again. 
 
 ^ He^drew the bow softly across the strings, 
 and a low, wailing note, almost like a human
 
 A DREAM IN MUSIC 53 
 
 cry, stiUed every tongue and turned a hundred 
 eyes upon the player. It was a dream of an 
 old world, a soft, heart-reaching andante — a 
 prayer to their gods by a people forsaken ; a 
 dream into which the player wove his listeners 
 until visions floated through the night - 
 wrapped foliage, staring with piteous eyes — 
 haunting, ghostly, terrifying ! 
 
 Who was this ? From whence had he 
 sprung ? They pressed forward in open- 
 mouthed wonder. Then, petrified, they stood 
 there, their eyes fixed on j^on swaying, 
 emotional, unnatural being — a study in grey 
 and bronze, in jealousy, rage, vindictiveness, 
 passion, and wild, insatiable ambition. They 
 could not break the spell to inquire of each 
 other his name ; they could not throw off 
 the fascination that sealed their tongues. 
 They forgot everything, forgot themselves, 
 lived only for That. They saw nothing, 
 looked for nothing — only That ! 
 
 It drew the breath out of their throats as 
 the wind draws the heat of a forest fire. Their 
 breasts heaved and fell with the motions of 
 that thin, white-haired, flexible bow that 
 fastened on the strings with the fierce delight 
 of a vulture on its prey ; their hearts were 
 bleeding for someone who was writhing in
 
 54 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 fearful agony amid the devouring flames of 
 hell ; their throats were dry as the sands of 
 a desert, yet their brows were wet and 
 clammy, and the air was humid and dank 
 as the slimy walls of a Bastille. Then the 
 night drew back her mantle, and in the 
 golden dawn of a new day they saw a new 
 earth, peopled with new beings, who gave 
 them looks in which pity and reproach were 
 commingled, and then withdrew again into 
 the opaque mists of nothingness. It was a 
 dream — a strange, wild dream — and they 
 crept closer together, these men and women 
 of the West, whose white skins were a legacy 
 of the gods. The women's white hands 
 went feeling out in the darkness for the 
 arms of the men, but still all eyes were on 
 That. 
 
 And then, when their hearts were nigh on 
 bursting with the unexpected strain, and 
 their finger-nails cut into the burning, itch- 
 ing palms, he laughed. God ! how he laughed, 
 this painter in music ! — ay, and laughed at 
 them and their white faces ! 
 
 The music ceased. He had placed the 
 violin on the piano, and was walking quietly 
 down the steps. There was an awful silence 
 — a straining, nerve-wrenching silence. One
 
 A DREAM IN MUSIC 55 
 
 little woman in a gown of pure white silk 
 crept up to him and touched his coat as he 
 passed. There was terror in her eyes. 
 
 And then the blood came back into the 
 veins of the crowd, and it shouted and laughed 
 — and wept.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A DANGEROUS PASSION 
 
 BY Jove ! you're a wonder, Krish ! " 
 The delighted Graham was holding 
 his friend at arm's length and gazing at him 
 admiringly. 
 
 " Did you see the pater ? The poor old 
 boy was howling like a kid. First time I've 
 seen him blub. Heavens, man, you're a 
 marvel ! and not a soul knew that you had 
 it in you. Where the deuce did you pick it 
 up, eh ? Man alive ! if you liked to chuck 
 bone-mending and drug-faking you could 
 make a fortune with that musical talent." 
 
 Krishna waved his hand deprecatingly. 
 " But I don't want to make a fortune ! " he 
 expostulated. " Besides, it was nothing — 
 merely a little fantasy ; but I wanted to play 
 it, and I wanted them to feel it as I felt it. I 
 suppose that made all the difference." 
 
 " It was grand ! " said Graham ecstatically. 
 " You'll have all the old dowagers of the place 
 at your heels. They're awfully keen on that 
 sort of thing." 
 
 " I'm afraid that I shall disappoint them, 
 then " ; and that quiet smile of contempt 
 that Graham had so often noticed twisted 
 the corners of the dark mouth. The two had 
 
 56
 
 A DANGEROUS PASSION 57 
 
 withdrawn from the crowd of guests, but not 
 out of earshot of the excited questioning and 
 conjecturing that was going on. Mrs. Dennis 
 was being playfully reproached on all sides 
 for her secretiveness, and, with her customary 
 diplomacy, she was only feebly protesting 
 that the genius of the evening did not owe 
 his " discovery " to her. 
 
 " And pray, Mr. Dennis junior, what have 
 I done to merit your displeasure ? " 
 
 The two men turned sharply at the words, 
 and Graham, blushing like a schoolgirl, 
 stepped forward to greet a dark, handsome 
 woman, who, accompanied by a military 
 officer a few years her senior, had stolen 
 quietly on them in the semi-darkness. 
 
 " I assure you, Miss Bressane, I had no 
 idea that " 
 
 " Ideas owe much to inclination," she 
 laughed. " Had it not been for the sleuth- 
 like instinct of Major Skew, I might not have 
 had the opportunity to-night of asking you 
 to introduce me to your friend." 
 
 She held out her hand, and Krishna took 
 it gravely in his for the fraction of a second. 
 She seemed disappointed that hej-did not 
 display unwonted delight at what even some 
 Europeans of his age would have regarded
 
 58 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 as a great condescension on her part. The 
 smile of self-confidence left her countenance, 
 and with sudden coldness she drew back a 
 step. 
 
 " This is Major Skew," she said quietly, 
 " a friend of mine." 
 
 The Major coughed, frowned, and fixed his 
 single eyeglass with unconscionable care. 
 
 " Really, Miss Bressane — er — you don't 
 expect me to — er " He drew back. 
 
 " I am pleased to make your acquaintance." 
 Krishna was holding out his hand. His eyes 
 were flashing a challenge. There was a ring 
 in his voice that made the Major wince and 
 realize in an instant that if there was going 
 to be any condescension it would not be on 
 his part. " Shake hands, sir ! " The Major 
 started back as though he had been struck. 
 His first impulse was to " damn the imperti- 
 nence of the nigger " ; then he became 
 conscious of two specks of fire that were 
 glaring at and burning into him. He lifted 
 his right arm — long afterwards he remem- 
 bered how flaccid and lifeless it seemed — and 
 touched the long, brown, wiUowy fingers that 
 were extended. It was Miss Bressane who 
 brought welcome relief. 
 
 " You created quite a sensation to-night
 
 A DANGEROUS PASSION 59 
 
 with your wonderful performance on the 
 viohn," she said softly, almost shyly, turning 
 her eyes on Krishna, who was stiU smiling 
 at the Major's obvious discomfiture. " For 
 myself, I shall never be able to repay you for 
 — I was going to say the pleasure, but one 
 could hardly call it that. It was pleasure and 
 pain blended, but without the pain there 
 would have been no pleasure." 
 
 " You are too generous," he said, allowing 
 his gaze to rest on her, to her embarrassment. 
 Her cheeks burned and her breath came in 
 painful half-jerks. There was nothing insolent 
 in the stare that seemed to be analysing her 
 very soul, only something magnetic — some- 
 thing that she had not found in other men. 
 
 " You must have studied under a good 
 master ? " she suggested. 
 
 " I have never had a master," he replied, 
 without the slightest trace of conceit. 
 
 She smiled incredulously, but it did not pro- 
 voke the resentment that Graham expected. 
 
 " Music, like the sister-arts," he said 
 gravely, " is not a question of masters, but 
 of inspiration. The masters merely tend the 
 seeds, as it were, and frequently kill them 
 by experiments." 
 
 " You are a cynic, Mr. Krishna."
 
 6o THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " No, only a medical student, and ac- 
 customed, naturally, to dissect." 
 
 The choleric Major Skew guffawed so 
 loudly at the sally that his pock-marked face 
 assumed the colour of boiled beef. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " he roared ; " not bad, not 
 half bad, for — for a " — (the humiliating inci- 
 dent of a few minutes before recurred to his 
 
 mind) " not half bad for a " and the sneer 
 
 on his face completed the sentence. 
 
 " Major ! " Miss Bressane's eyes were 
 flashing with indignation. " If you are a 
 gentleman, you will apologise to Mr. Krishna 
 for your intentional rudeness." 
 
 The Major's forced laugh stuck in his throat 
 as she turned upon him in a fury. 
 
 " Apologise, or be good enough to leave 
 me. 
 
 " My dear Miss Bressane," he began ; but 
 she stamped her foot impatiently. His red 
 face took on a darker tinge, and he played 
 nervously with his bristling moustache. 
 
 " There is no need to apologize," said 
 Krishna, addressing himself to Miss Bressane, 
 his eyes expressing his gratitude for her 
 championship. " An apology at the best of 
 times is only a lie told at the expense of 
 one's feelings. The Major's might be too
 
 A DANGEROUS PASSION 6i 
 
 obvious. There must be tact in the telhng 
 even of a He." 
 
 " Egad, sir ! " The Major moved forward 
 threateningly, with stick upraised. 
 
 " Yes, 1 do not doubt it," said Krishna 
 calmly. " You are going to say that you've 
 kicked many a native to death for half my 
 sins— eh ? You are boastful as well as rude, 
 sir." 
 
 " Krishna ! " cried Graham, now thoroughly 
 alarmed. " For Heaven's sake, don't. Major. 
 Let the matter drop. I'm sure you didn't 
 mean to insinuate anything by your 
 remark." 
 
 " No doubt," said the Major icily, turning 
 away, " your father will explain this un- 
 warrantable imposition on his guests." 
 
 Krishna laughed contemptuously. " And 
 no doubt," he called out, " the day will come 
 when you will find yourself without the 
 protection of your uniform — and a lady. 
 We will then resume this conversation." 
 
 But the Major was striding away toward 
 the house. " It won't do to let him go like 
 that," said Graham, in a tone of annoyance, 
 and he hurried after the retreating figure, 
 lea^dng the other two standing alone beneath 
 the trees.
 
 62 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 She was the first to speak. " I am so 
 sorry," she began, but he checked her with 
 a quiet Httle laugh that was half a cry. 
 
 " No, no," he said ; " it was my fault. I'm 
 so sensitive." 
 
 " I know you are." She raised her head 
 and looked at him wonderingly, pityingly. 
 The moon sat high in the heavens, like a 
 silver god on a sapphire throne, and its white 
 light filtered through the fronds of the palms 
 and bathed her face. And for the first time 
 her beauty appealed to him — ^he who before 
 had no eyes for women. The face was oval 
 and the chin small. The determination and 
 resoluteness of the mouth were discounted by 
 the tenderness and yearning of the eyes. Yet 
 he remembered how the fire had leaped into 
 their calm depths only a moment before. As 
 she stood there — so near to him that the 
 crisp lace of her simple white skirt brushed 
 his knees at the will of a passing breeze — an 
 emotion that was wholly new to him surged 
 through his veins in an irrepressible wave. 
 His eyes wandered from her face. The 
 perfect symmetry of the body pleased his 
 artist's eye. The poise of the head, the throw 
 of the shoulders, the graceful, delicate curve 
 of the bosom — ^he marked them all. And
 
 A DANGEROUS PASSION 63 
 
 then the vision of the choleric Major looked 
 at him through the trees. He felt cold of a 
 sudden. 
 
 " You know that I am sensitive," he said, 
 with feigned surprise. " How can that be ? 
 I have never seen you until now." 
 
 " No," she replied in a voice that was 
 almost a whisper, " but you told me to-night 
 — the veranda, the violin. Do you know 
 that I went a long way with you in that 
 dream of yours, and then " 
 
 " Then ? " 
 
 " Then you frightened me. Yes, I confess 
 it. And yet I have been told that my nerves 
 were made for a soldier and given me in 
 mistake." 
 
 He laughed amusedly. " Perhaps you 
 were a little overstrung to-night. I should 
 be grieved to think that I " 
 
 " Oh no ; it was glorious, heavenly ! " 
 she went on. "I should love to hear it 
 again. No, I don't mean that, but some- 
 thing else, something less cruel, less sug- 
 gestive." 
 
 " Tc would be a pleasure to me," he said ; 
 and in the moonlight she thought that his 
 eyes glowed. 
 
 " You will ? " she cried. " Oh, thank you
 
 64 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 so much ! I shall look forward to it with an 
 eagerness that even you cannot under- 
 stand." 
 
 " Perhaps," he ventured, " Graham will 
 
 " He paused and waited for her to help 
 
 him out of an obvious difficulty. 
 
 " I will ask him to bring you over to my 
 bungalow," she said. " You've heard of it ? 
 Agra Nook ? No ? I thought that every 
 European tongue in the province had adver- 
 tised it for me." 
 
 " You do not fear their tongues, Miss 
 Bressane ? " 
 
 " Why should I ? There are sufficient 
 skeletons in Madras cupboards to start a 
 good-sized cemetery — of reputations " 
 
 " You live alone ? " The abruptness of 
 the question amused her ; the unmistakable 
 solicitude of the questioner made her laugh 
 outright. 
 
 " And pray, Mr. Serious, why should a 
 Frenchwoman fear to live alone with her 
 servants ? There is nothing in the Constitu- 
 tion which prohibits it as being indiscreet — 
 or worse ? " Her big eyes twinkled mischiev- 
 ously at his discomfiture. 
 
 " I was thinking of your solitude," he said 
 apologetically.
 
 A DANGEROUS PASSION 65 
 
 " I have my music, my studies, my work 
 in life." 
 
 She stopped suddenly, as though fearing 
 that she had gone too far, and watched the 
 effect of her words. 
 
 " Your work ? " 
 
 " Yes, my work. Come, do not falsify my 
 first impression of you." 
 
 " That " 
 
 " That you had risen above your environ- 
 ment, broadened your mind by study and 
 observation, and cast off the shackles of 
 foolish old customs and beliefs, one of which 
 makes for the disparagement of women 
 generally. I hold that everyone, man and 
 woman, should have a mission in life, whether 
 it be open or secret." 
 
 " I suppose you are right," he said. She 
 thought she detected suspicion in the rapid 
 glance which he gave her, so she changed the 
 subject. 
 
 " Then you promise to come and play for 
 me? " 
 
 " I promise," he said gravely, " if " 
 
 "If Graham will chaperon you, eh ? " She 
 was laughing in his face, but he never moved 
 a muscle. 
 
 " It were better that he came," he said
 
 66 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 modestly. " There are so many things to 
 consider." 
 
 " For instance ? " 
 
 " There is such a feeHng among Europeans 
 as racial prejudice." His lips closed together 
 with a snap, and she noted that his hands 
 were clenched. 
 
 " Ah, you are sensitive — ^hypersensitive. 
 No one with a mission in life should encourage 
 that feeling." 
 
 " Not when it is provoked daily, hourly ? " 
 he demanded bitterly. 
 
 She shook her head. " If I had been as 
 sensitive as you when I first came to this 
 country, I should have left, humiliated, 
 within a month after my arrival. But I had 
 my work. I could not afford to turn myself 
 into a highly sensitized photographic film." 
 
 " Still," he protested, " I should not like 
 to add to your embarrassment." 
 
 " Come," she said, laughing lightly, " to 
 convince you of my racial scruples, I will 
 make a demand on your gallantry, and ask 
 you to escort me back to the hostess. The 
 hour is late. I must make my adieux." 
 
 She took his arm, and together they walked 
 back to the lawn. 
 
 It would have been difficult to describe his
 
 A DANGEROUS PASSION 67 
 
 feelings. Though the freedom of her speech 
 had been starthng and her treatment of con- 
 vention daring and risky, he felt satisfied 
 that here was a strong woman — a woman 
 possessing all the attractions of her sex and 
 none of its frailties ; a woman capable of 
 firing with her right hand the passion-grass 
 around her, and beating it out with her left 
 when it became dangerous. His acquaintance 
 with women had been of the slightest, but he 
 knew that this was no ordinary woman. She 
 had said that she had a work, a mission in 
 life, and he began, naturally, to conjecture. 
 He would have asked her boldly, but he was 
 afraid that her answer would dispel the 
 dream-cloud that he was weaving round her. 
 She interested him, and when he strove for a 
 definite reason, he was startled to find that 
 his interest had its inception in admiration. 
 
 They had reached the lawn, and already 
 they were surrounded by the other guests. 
 Krishna heard his name mentioned by one or 
 two of the men as he and she mingled with 
 the crowd ; he caught the curious glances of 
 the women-folk ; but he did not mind what 
 they said or thought. His own thoughts 
 were centred on her — the noble head and the 
 swishing, perfumed white silk skirt. He
 
 68 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 watched her thread her way to the side of 
 Mrs. Dennis, heard her rippUng laughter at 
 some parting jest, watched her wend her way 
 back to his side, and thrilled at the warm 
 grasp of her fingers in a soft " Good night." 
 
 And then, when the hum of her car died 
 away in the distance, the blood became 
 heavy and torpid in his veins. He wanted 
 to steal away anywhere — out in the jungle 
 — to think. The lights blinded him ; the 
 laughter and jest jarred ; the atmosphere 
 weighed down like lead on his brain. He 
 stumbled about the garden, and had many a 
 sarcastic reminder of his colour and breeding 
 hurled in his teeth. But he did not heed 
 them. He was like an imprisoned beast of 
 the forest, and they were so many bars of a 
 cage that kept him in captivity. 
 
 At last he met Graham, and with a feeble 
 excuse bade him present his compliments to 
 his parents. Then he hurried away, leaving 
 his friend to ponder over yet another eccen- 
 tricity. 
 
 He stumbled on. Over rice-fields and 
 coffee-plantations, through orange-groves, 
 and across mangrove-swamps. On, on, on ! 
 Anywhere, so long as it led to Her ! The 
 perspiration rolled in heavy drops from his
 
 A DANGEROUS PASSION 69 
 
 forehead. His hands dripped blood after he 
 had forced his way through the undergrowth. 
 His feet were weighted with rice-field mire. 
 But still he kept on. He never stopped to 
 ask himself why he was going or what he 
 would do when he got there. He was merely 
 following that will-o'-the-wisp — a figure in 
 white silk, with massive coils of black hair 
 wound round a defiant head. 
 
 And at last he reached Agra Nook — a tiny 
 bungalow hidden in a hollow of the hills. A 
 light was burning in a lower window. It 
 seemed to beckon to and welcome him, and a 
 faint cry of exultation escaped his lips. But 
 he never reached it. Something — he knew 
 not what — kept him back, forced him out of 
 the light of the moon into the shadow of the 
 scrub. And there he waited. It seemed to 
 him that he waited for hours. 
 
 He heard a footfall on the gravel path of 
 the garden— a soft, stealthy footfall — a man 
 was making his way, cautiously and furtively, 
 to the bungalow. A low whistle ! The door 
 was opened, and in the flood of light that 
 streamed forth he saw her standing on the 
 threshold. The white silk dress had gone. 
 The coils of black hair had been taken down, 
 and the tresses fell about her shoulders in
 
 70 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 wavy masses. A pale blue wrapper was 
 thrown carelessly about her limbs, revealing 
 more to his hungry eyes then it concealed. 
 Then the man passed in, and the door was 
 closed again, but not before the lamp-light 
 had flickered for an instant on his face. 
 
 It was Major Skew ! 
 
 The watcher in the scrub leaned against a 
 palm for support. The air was choking him. 
 
 She had lied to him — played with him ! 
 
 The fire died out of his eyes, the sneer of 
 contempt crept back into the corners of his 
 mouth, and he turned again for home.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE DEAD SEVEN 
 
 KUPPUSWAMY'S house had been erected 
 on an eminence beyond and overlooking 
 the native quarter of the city. The moon was 
 pahng before the approach of dawn when 
 Krishna, utterly weary in body and mind, 
 reached his own little room. A reading-lamp 
 on the study table still burned, but, the oil 
 being nearly exhausted, the flame spat and 
 spluttered, seemingly in sympathy with the 
 dejected spirits of the man. 
 
 He drew a chair to the table and sat with 
 his head resting on his hands, his eyes staring 
 vacantly at the glimmering light. His brain, 
 chaotic and restless, kept sleep at bay. A fly 
 settled on the writing-pad near him, and a 
 green and yellow lizard, blinking its cunning, 
 greedy eyes, crawled in pursuit. Its repulsive 
 body brushed against the man's elbow, 
 but failed to arouse in him the shghtest 
 revulsion. Only when a soft tap came to 
 the door did he start nervously from his des- 
 pondency. 
 
 " Krishna ! " 
 
 He cast a hurried glance at his muddy boots, 
 his soiled clothes, his blood-stained hands ; a 
 hand-mirror on the table before him reflected 
 
 71
 
 72 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 a hunted expression on a face that was almost 
 unnatural. 
 
 " Krishna ! " 
 
 He hesitated a moment, then drew aside 
 the sliding panel. Lakshmi stood on the 
 threshold, and as her eyes fell upon him she 
 stepped back in alarm. 
 
 " You, Lakshmi ! " he exclaimed in a 
 hoarse voice. " What do you want at — at 
 this hour ? " 
 
 " I came to seek you, Krishna," she 
 
 faltered ; " but this — this " And she 
 
 pointed at his clothes, all wet and torn. 
 
 " It is nothing, Lakshmi," he said quickly, 
 taking her hand and drawing her into the 
 room. " It is nothing, I assure you. Do not 
 disturb your father." 
 
 She implied by a gesture that there was no 
 danger from that quarter. The old phil- 
 osopher slept at the other side of the house. 
 
 " I have been a distance," Krishna said, 
 in explanation, although his agitation was 
 apparent to her innocent eyes, " visited a 
 friend, walked home across country." He 
 sank down in his chair, and she left the room 
 on tiptoe, to return a moment later with 
 warm water and the sweet oil of the cocoa- 
 nut, with which she bathed his feet and
 
 THE DEAD SEVEN 73 
 
 hands. He did not attempt to expostulate, 
 but lay back, quiet and impassive, watching 
 the faint glow of the lamp play like a halo 
 round her head. 
 
 " Poor Lakshmi ! " It was only a half- 
 drawn sigh, but she rose to her feet on the 
 instant and looked into his eyes. 
 
 " Why do you say that, Krishna ? " she 
 asked. But his answering smile chased away 
 her doubts. 
 
 " I was only thinking how unworthy I am 
 of your devotedness." Her soft hands were 
 pushing back from his brow the straggling 
 wisps, and her touch was the touch of the 
 fawn. 
 
 " You are jesting, Krishna," she whispered ; 
 but her sloe-like eyes opened wide, and he saw 
 how near her heart his words had sunk. And 
 when she rose and moved about the room 
 with that fascinating grace of deportment 
 peculiar to the domesticated native of India, 
 he fell to comparing her charms with another. 
 He knew that it had been the wish of his 
 father, and was now the hope of his bene- 
 factor, the aged Kuppuswamy, that this girl 
 should one day become his wife. He knew 
 that he loved her — had learned to love her 
 for her sweet simplicity during the years that
 
 74 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 he had been in the house of the philosopher. 
 But he reahzed now, and not without a pang 
 of conscience, that no touch nor glance of 
 hers had ever thrilled him as he had been 
 thrilled that night — ^thrilled by the touch and 
 glance of one whom he had known only a few 
 hours. Many a time had Lakshmi done as 
 much for him as she was doing now, and he 
 had drawn her to him and whispered that in 
 her ear which made her tremble in his arms 
 like a newly caught bird. There had been 
 occasions, especially of an evening, the young 
 moon climbing above the palm and the deodar 
 silvering the leaves in a soft caress, when, as 
 she ran her cool fingers through his hair, 
 crooning the while a ballad of ancient India, 
 he persuaded himself that she was part of his 
 life — a recompense by the gods for the 
 arduous labours that had devolved upon him. 
 And she, trusting child, had grown to regard 
 him as hers and hers alone, hers to love and 
 serve. To no one had she breathed a word of 
 all she felt, but Kuppuswamy understood 
 and, understanding, rejoiced. To-night the 
 memory of her devotedness came to Krishna 
 and lashed his conscience with the burning 
 sting of whips of fire. A single pressure of 
 milk-white hands was the altar on which he
 
 THE DEAD SEVEN 75 
 
 had been prepared to sacrifice this child. He 
 shrank with shame from her looks of com- 
 passion ; he dreaded her caresses, as though 
 her warm, dark arms were bands of steel that 
 would strangle him for his perfidiousness. He 
 wished that she would leave him to wrestle 
 alone with his rebel thoughts, and 
 
 Suddenly she seemed to divine what was 
 passing in his mind. She had brought him his 
 dhoti, and unrolled his mat, and had thrown 
 on the gold and silver brazier a handful of 
 sweet-smelling balsam. He was following her 
 movements with pitying eyes, and once his 
 glance met hers. With a low cry of fear she 
 came again to his chair, and, nestling at his 
 feet, took his hot hands and placed them on 
 her temples. It had been an old habit of hers 
 when, weary of books and study, he had called 
 her to him and told her tales of his dreams and 
 ambitions. 
 
 " Krishna, what ails you ? There is some- 
 thing wrong. Have I displeased you ? " 
 
 " No, no, Lakshmi," he hastened ; " it is 
 nothing — only my head and brain seem heavy 
 and duU." 
 
 Her eyes were fixed upon him, and their 
 solicitude embarrassed him. He closed his, 
 that he might avoid their scrutiny.
 
 76 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " You are too tired to talk ? " 
 " Yes, Lakshmi — much too tired. I will 
 rest awhile, and in the morning you can give 
 me the message." 
 
 " Why " 
 
 He smiled at her childlike astonishment. 
 " Else why have you broken your rest to 
 come to me ?" he laughed. 
 
 " Yes, I have a message for you," she 
 confessed ; " and it was because the bearer 
 desired me personally to convey it to you 
 that I have stolen from my bed three times 
 to-night." 
 
 " And it is from ? " 
 
 He asked the question carelessly, indiffer- 
 ently. His thoughts were still straying round 
 Agra Nook. 
 
 " From a fakir named Runga." 
 " Runga ! " He almost leapt from the 
 chair. " Yes, yes, I know," he cried when 
 she would have said more. " Give it to me, 
 Lakshmi." 
 
 " I thought you were very tired and weary, 
 Krishna," she said slyly, taking the letter 
 from the folds of her dress. 
 
 But he did not answer her. He had torn 
 the letter open, and was eagerly scanning the 
 contents :
 
 THE DEAD SEVEN ^^ 
 
 " The Dead Seven watch. The Sons strain 
 their ears for the Voice. What news ? Three 
 jotirney from Mercara to hold counsel — two the 
 sons of Rhandi, trusted of thy father, one a 
 stranger from the land Neon. Trust him ; his 
 tongue is wise, and the ears of the Sons are 
 wide. ' But trust not man nor woman that thou 
 wouldst not trust with thy life.' 
 
 " RUNGA." 
 
 " Who brought this message, Lakshmi ? " 
 
 Krishna's voice was deep and sepulchral, 
 and the girl drew back affrighted. 
 
 " Is it ill news, Krishna ? " she asked, in a 
 quavering voice. " It were better that I had 
 never seen him." 
 
 " No, Lakshmi, not ill news. But tell me, 
 have others seen this ? " 
 
 " None, Krishna. The fakir bade me guard 
 it as I would guard my lover's heart." 
 
 He re-read the letter slowly and deliber- 
 ately, as though he were committing it word 
 by word to memory ; then he held it to the 
 lamp and burned it. She watched with 
 wondering eyes. 
 
 " This Runga is a strange man, Lakshmi ? " 
 he said, when the letter had shrivelled to a 
 cinder.
 
 78 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 The remark was in the form and tone of a 
 question. 
 
 " He asked many questions," she said 
 reflectively, " about father and — and about 
 you." 
 
 " It was natural that he should speak of me. 
 He knew and befriended me when I was a boy. 
 He did not see Kuppuswamy ? " 
 
 " Father had gone on a visit to a sick 
 ryot." 
 
 There was a long silence. Krishna was 
 staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought. 
 
 " Do you trust this Runga, Krishna ? " 
 Her face was clouded by sudden graveness. 
 
 " Yes," he said quickly, " I told you that 
 he is one of the dearest memories of my 
 childhood. When my father died, he cared 
 for me, fed me, taught me the mysteries of 
 the heavens and the stars, and the birds and 
 beasts of the jungle. Runga is no ordinary 
 man, Lakshmi, and not a charlatan. One 
 scrap of his practical science is worth more 
 than all the libraries of theory cherished by 
 the wise men of the West." 
 
 She was thoughtful for a moment, then, 
 " He was anxious to know where you were," 
 she said quietly. 
 
 " And you said ? "
 
 THE DEAD SEVEN 79 
 
 She lowered her eyes, and he felt her 
 tremble. 
 
 " That you were with my thoughts." Her 
 voice was almost inaudible, and he had to 
 lean towards her to catch the words. 
 
 " And then, Lakshmi ? " His agitation 
 troubled her, for she raised her head, and 
 stroked his hands soothingly. 
 
 " Then," she continued, with a look of fear 
 in her big, liquid eyes — " then he drew me to 
 the hght and looked long and earnestly into 
 my face." She shuddered as though the 
 recollection frightened her. " I can see him 
 now. His eyes grew larger and larger, and 
 drew nearer and nearer to mine. Then he 
 disappeared in a great white, fleecy cloud, but 
 his voice was always near me. I seemed to be 
 sinking away in a long, quiet sleep. ' Tell me 
 what you see,' he called through the mist. 
 And — and I told him." 
 
 " And what did you see, Lakshmi ? " 
 Krishna's face was drawn, and his breath 
 came in short, thick gasps like that of a man 
 preparing himself for a blow. 
 
 " I saw," she began slowly — " I saw a 
 crowd of sahibs and memsahibs with white 
 faces and quivering lips gazing at someone 
 who was standing near them. Ihe wind had
 
 8o THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 blown his hair about his face so that I 
 could not distinguish his features, although 
 I could hear Runga's voice urging me to 
 try." 
 
 " And then ? " Krishna's voice was 
 strangely weak. 
 
 " That was all," she said, apparently much 
 relieved. " The scene vanished, and there was 
 the fakir smiling at me as though nothing had 
 happened." 
 
 In the silence that followed, Lakshmi 
 could hear the " scrish, scrish " of a lizard as 
 it crawled across the bamboo table. Then 
 Krishna took her face in his hands, and 
 looked sternly into her eyes. 
 
 " Lakshmi," he said, " I want you to forget 
 that you received that letter. Let it die now 
 out of your memory." 
 
 " Krishna has only to ask," she answered 
 fondly. He lay back in his chair and closed 
 his eyes. When he opened them again, he 
 seemed surprised to find the girl still at his 
 feet. 
 
 " Had Runga aged much, Lakshmi ? It is 
 years since we parted." 
 
 " Runga— Krishna ? " 
 
 " Yes, the fakir who brought the letter." 
 
 " What letter, Krishna ? "
 
 THE DEAD SEVEN 8i 
 
 He stooped and kissed her. It was the first 
 time that their hps had met. That single act, 
 a leaf from his book of modernity, lifted her 
 out of the musty relics of custom, and made 
 her a new heaven.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE PALM-LEAF MESSAGE 
 
 WHATEVER the import of Runga's 
 letter, it had no visible effect on 
 Lakshmi, although Krishna watched her 
 narrowly for several days. It was sufficient 
 for her that he had received it, and had 
 bade her forget that it ever existed. She 
 went about her household duties with the 
 old sweet serenity of countenance, and a mind 
 free as a child's in May-time. In truth, the 
 document to her was innocuous enough. Only 
 one incident of that eventful night remained 
 fresh to her recollection. If her love for 
 Krishna had consumed her thoughts before, 
 that tender kiss and warm embrace had 
 woven a chain between her soul and him that 
 time could never break. Poor Lakshmi ! 
 Poor Krishna ! If Cupid were a thought- 
 reader, few honeymoons would be spent in 
 heaven ! 
 
 But if Runga's message conveyed nothing 
 to the mind of Lakshmi, it came as an 
 imperative command to Krishna, It brought 
 him back with a nerve-wrenching shock from 
 the elysium into which he had been allowing 
 himself momentarily to drift. The work for 
 which he had been chosen permitted no 
 
 82
 
 THE PALM-LEAF MESSAGE 83 
 
 relaxation, no loitering by the wayside to 
 moisten his parched lips. " The eyes of the 
 dead will be upon thee ! " The words of his 
 dead father seemed written in blood across 
 his vision. His life had been mapped out for 
 him. It was not his own. It were dangerous 
 to encourage the weaknesses of the flesh. 
 
 On the fifth night following his vigil in 
 the shadows of Agra Nook he retired to his 
 study. AU day long he had been racked 
 by conflicting desires, and his labours in the 
 dissecting-room of the college represented 
 so much time wasted. As he went up the 
 stairs, with the slow, hesitating, stealthy tread 
 of someone engaged on a nefarious errand, he 
 strained his ears to catch the slightest sound. 
 
 Kappuswamy had taken Lakshmi to a 
 festival in the native quarter of the city, and 
 might not return until the following day. A 
 dull, leaden silence rested on the house. Even 
 the drone of insect life outside seemed to 
 have ceased. When he reached his room he 
 started back with a half-smothered cry of 
 alarm as he caught a glimpse of his face in 
 the mirror. How old he had grown in a 
 single day ! 
 
 He went to the window, and leaned far out 
 and listened. The lower part of the house was
 
 84 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 in complete darkness ; only a small reading- 
 lamp burned in his study. He closed the 
 Venetian shutters, and, taking the lamp in his 
 hand, searched the rooms of the house. His 
 suspicions allayed, he returned to his study, 
 sat down at the table, and recalled each 
 work of Runga's letter. Then for an hour 
 he remained lost in thought. Again he went 
 to the shutters and threw them open, looking 
 out across the city — far out to a tiny clump 
 of trees that he had seen but once before, but 
 which was now traced in fire on his memory. 
 
 And as he looked the weak flesh cried out 
 for freedom from the enthraldom of the mind. 
 The wild, passionate longings of an emotional 
 man surged through his frame in an unbroken 
 wave. The dark, finely chiselled face, where 
 the strength of the man was reflected, now 
 sagged and quivered and assumed a weakness 
 that it had never before known. The thin, 
 straight lips drooped and twitched, and the 
 proud head fell back into an attitude of 
 supplication. 
 
 " The Sons await the Voice ! " O God, how 
 weak and impotent it was ! How easy to 
 escape it all ! His hand went to his waist. 
 A low hiss from the direction of the table, 
 and he turned his head quickly, a shaft of
 
 THE PALM-LEAF MESSAGE 85 
 
 moonlight guiding his gaze. On the bamboo 
 table was a small human skull. He had left 
 it there after a trepanning experiment. Now, 
 as he looked at it, the moonlight fell full upon 
 it, lighting up the hideous, grinning eye- 
 sockets. And as he watched there came out 
 of the left socket the hissing head of a small 
 cobra. 
 
 A strange, uncanny smile parted his lips as 
 he moved towards the reptile. It ceased its 
 hissing as he approached. In his eyes gleamed 
 a bright, weird light. He put out his hand 
 and grasped the creature gently yet firmly, 
 and, dragging its body from the skull, laid 
 it on the table before him. He placed the 
 lamp near the scaly, mottled body and bent 
 down to examine it more closely. Then he 
 jumped up with a low cry that was almost 
 a whine. 
 
 The cobra was dead ! 
 
 He picked up the body, and, opening the 
 shutters, threw it far out among the foliage. 
 Then he went back to the table, and, un- 
 winding his dhoti, took from his waist the 
 red-hide belt. With nervous fingers he cut 
 away the stitching, and when at last the strips 
 of paLm-leaf, yellow with age, and folded in 
 the shape of wallets, lay before him on the
 
 86 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 table, he encircled them with his arms as 
 though fearful lest an unseen hand should 
 stretch out of the shadows of the room and 
 snatch them from him. 
 
 Presently, when his blood pulsated less 
 wildly and his excited brain resumed the 
 normal, he examined the nearest leaf. Pricked 
 in Hindustani, and on the extreme edge, were 
 the words : 
 
 "The Bequest of Achaya, Son of Silvaswamy." 
 
 He opened the wallet and spread it out on 
 the table. There was an irritating brevity 
 about the thing, and after the opening 
 sentences the testator had chosen to be 
 perplexingly enigmatical : 
 
 " For the realization of my dreams and the 
 dreams of my immediate ancestors I bequeath 
 the wealth of three generations. None can 
 estimate its power. Before it men will fall like 
 the leaves in time of drought. He who would 
 dream as I and mine have dreamed let him read. 
 . . . Smallest yet dearest. Watered by heaven. 
 Look west from the throne that faces the east. 
 Beyond the shadow of the deodar at eventide it 
 lies." 
 
 Krishna read and re-read the cryptogram, 
 and with a quiet smile refolded the wallet and
 
 THE PALM-LEAF MESSAGE 87 
 
 placed it again in the belt. Then he turned 
 to the other. On the edge of this were pricked 
 the two words " The Dream." He opened it 
 and commenced to read, calmly, composedly. 
 Then, of a sudden, the blood rushed in a 
 torrent to his face, leaving his limbs cold and 
 weak and flaccid. The pupils of his eyes 
 leaped to the mouths of their sockets and 
 became two balls of liquid fire. 
 
 " That ! that ! " he screamed, and raised 
 his hands to ward off some hideous apparition 
 of his brain. He sprang away from the table 
 and the terrible Thing that lay there mocking 
 his cowardice. In his movements he over- 
 turned and extinguished the lamp. Only for 
 a second was the room in darkness. Was it 
 a trick of his imagination or the hand of the 
 dead ? 
 
 A thin stream of white light came through 
 the closed shutters and rested on the 
 shrivelled leaves. 
 
 With a cry of desperation, he sprang 
 towards the table ; but ere he reached it the 
 light had gone, leaving him again in utter 
 darkness. He searched for and found the 
 lamp, relighted it, and sank into his chair, 
 weak and exhausted. His eyes closed, his 
 head dropped forward on the table, and the
 
 88 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 perspiration poured from him in a stream. 
 How long he lay there he knew not. It was 
 a stealthy movement behind his chair that 
 brought him to his feet with a hoarse shout. 
 
 Graham Dennis, his face white as the face 
 of the dead, confronted him. 
 
 " You — ^you ! " Krishna gasped, his hands 
 clenched and the veins of his neck standing 
 out like whipcords. " How long have you 
 been there ? " 
 
 " Why, what the deuce is the matter with 
 you, Krish ? You look as if you'd been 
 playing with ghosts." 
 
 " Never mind me," said the other wildly ; 
 " tell me how long you have been in this 
 room." 
 
 " I have been here four or five seconds," 
 said Graham in an injured tone of voice ; 
 " but if rd known that you had become a 
 raging lunatic, I wouldn't have taken the 
 trouble to come at all. I saw a light in your 
 study window as I crossed Blett's Plantation, 
 and as I couldn't make anyone hear me down 
 below, I just stumbled up your cursed stairs, 
 and knocked a hole in my shin in the doing of 
 it. Are you satisfied ? If you are, I'll say 
 good night. If you're not — well, you can go 
 to the devil, although I must say that you
 
 THE PALM-LEAF MESSAGE 89 
 
 look as if you'd been there once to-night 
 already." 
 
 As Graham was delivering himself Krishna 
 seized the wallet and hurriedly concealed it in 
 the folds of his dhoti. 
 
 " Forgive me, Graham," he faltered ; "it 
 was not my intention to be rude. I have been 
 studying too much. My brain is fagged and 
 subject to these sudden fits. Don't talk about 
 leaving me yet a while. Here, sit down." He 
 pushed a chair towards him and poured out a 
 glassful of wine. " Drink, Graham," he said 
 feebly, holding out the glass with one hand 
 and passing the other wearily over his fore- 
 head — " drink, like a good fellow, and forget."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THREE MEN AND A WOMAN 
 
 AS Graham Dennis threw himself into the 
 long rattan chair and proceeded to make 
 himself comfortable, he became conscious of 
 a pair of glistening eyes that were fixed upon 
 him, marking his every movement. 
 
 " Well, are you satisfied, old nerve- 
 twister ? " he queried, as Krishna sank into 
 a chair opposite him. " What the devil have 
 you been up to ? dissecting a ghost, eh ? " 
 
 Krishna laughed uneasily and refilled his 
 wineglass. His hand was so unsteady that 
 the neck of the decanter rattled a chime on 
 the glass. 
 
 " Look here, old fellow," said Graham, 
 with some alarm, " you've got to pitch those 
 books out of the window and sleep for a 
 month, or you'U never see Edinburgh, much 
 less that degree you've set your heart on." 
 
 " You're a pessimist — ^too gloomy for a 
 doctor," Krishna replied, with a peculiar 
 shrug of the shoulders. "As a matter of 
 
 fact, I don't think that I shall " He 
 
 paused abruptly, and held up his glass to 
 the light, as though seeking inspiration there. 
 
 " What ? " Graham blew out a wreath of 
 smoke, and watched it circle like a cloud 
 
 90
 
 THREE MEN AND A WOMAN 91 
 
 round the other's head. Krishna was silent 
 for a moment. 
 
 " Are you a fatalist ? " he asked suddenly. 
 
 " No, Fm not exactly that ; I'm what you 
 might call an ' indifferent.' Men get like that 
 after they've been out here a year or two and 
 had their energy reduced to a yawn and a 
 thirst. Are you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think I am ; in fact, I know that 1 
 am," said Krishna gravely. 
 
 " For instance " 
 
 " Well, I shall not go to Edinburgh." 
 
 " You what ! Oh, shut up, man ! You'd 
 give a fellow the blues on his wedding- 
 day." 
 
 " I mean it," Krishna went on ; " and, by 
 the way, I learned to-day that it was 
 extremely unlikely that you would go up." 
 
 " Quite right," said Graham, as though his 
 case did not particularly affect anyone. 
 " That was one of the reasons that led me 
 round to your asylum to-night ; but old 
 Mother Gossip seems to have bought a 
 flying machine." 
 
 " Anything wrong ? " 
 
 " On the contrary, everything right. My 
 people are returning, and I might have gone 
 with them ; but a two-thou-rupee job has
 
 92 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 come along, and — well, I should be a fool to 
 give it a miss." 
 
 " You are fortunate," said Krishna, with- 
 out a shade of envy in his voice ; " but how 
 about your qualifications, your degrees ? " 
 
 " Um, they certainly get a miss. Had 
 enough of bone-sawing and liniment-snif&ng. 
 Nothing like a change, my boy, for keeping up 
 your interest in life. ' Civil Servant ' doesn't 
 sound as well, but it becomes the pocket 
 better, and God knows I've signed enough 
 chits lately to start a paper-mill." 
 
 " Civil Servant ! " Krishna's eyebrows 
 lifted in surprise. 
 
 " Um, something to do with the taxes. 
 Don't know exactly what ; but the less you 
 know about these things the better. Just shut 
 your eyes and throw your pen about, and the 
 others, the — well, you know — will do the 
 grind." 
 
 " Yes, I know," said Krishna, with cutting 
 sarcasm ; " the peons will pull you through." 
 
 " They get paid for it, I suppose ? " 
 Graham retorted. 
 
 " Oh yes, they get paid for it," Krishna 
 acquiesced — " fifteen rupees a month, if they 
 dress becomingly and are willing to ' grind,' as 
 you call it, long after the usual ofQce-hours."
 
 THREE MEN AND A WOMAN 93 
 
 " Oh, come, Krish, I don't want to argue 
 with you on sociaHstic problems. It's too hot 
 for that. If you feel that way inclined, join 
 the staff of the Bande Mataram. I didn't 
 seek the job — they brought it to me ; so you 
 can't blame me, can you ? " 
 
 "No, I suppose not," Krishna replied, his 
 brows knitted in thought. 
 
 " Well, don't give me the hump before I 
 start on the beastly job. I want the money 
 badly enough. You can't deny that, can 
 
 you ? No. Well, then " And with the 
 
 air of one who had spoken the last possible 
 word on the subject he dropped back in his 
 chair with a grunt of relief. 
 
 " But why aren't you going up ? " he asked 
 presently, looking up from the operation of 
 cigarette-rolling. 
 
 " I have work here that will keep me 
 fully occupied for some time to come," 
 said Krishna, signifying by a gesture that 
 he was undesirous of saying more on the 
 subject. 
 
 " Luck to you," cried Graham cheerily. 
 " Hope I may live to see you come out on 
 top." 
 
 " I hope you may ! " There was a kindly 
 gleam of solicitude in Krishna's eyes. Between
 
 94 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 the two men existed a strong bond of friend- 
 ship, the first strand of which was tied in the 
 early days of their school life. Dennis was 
 one of those light-hearted, flamboyant, good- 
 natured Englishmen who, finding themselves 
 in a strange land and among strange people, 
 make up their minds from the very first to 
 take things as they come, and not to go round 
 the corner in search of trouble. While care- 
 less and indifferent where his own interests 
 were concerned, he could always find time to 
 admire and encourage ambition in others. 
 No racial prejudices disturbed his peace of 
 mind. It was his voluntary interference on 
 Krishna's behalf in this direction that first 
 drew the native to him. The one was the 
 antithesis of the other, and perhaps that 
 accounted in a large measure for their com- 
 patibility of temperament. At the same time, 
 Graham was almost entirely ignorant of the 
 deeper aims and ambitions of the other. 
 Krishna had never sought to enlighten him. 
 Not that he doubted the capabilities of his 
 comprehension or feared his antipathy, for, 
 despite his outward placidity and indis- 
 position to " swat," as he called it, Graham 
 Dennis was capable of greater things than 
 his most generous friend would have given
 
 THREE MEN AND A WOMAN 95 
 
 him credit for. He was the kind of man who 
 seems destined by Providence to gUde out of 
 a mother-country and pass the rest of his 
 Hfe in a colony. His was a disposition that 
 would win him greater laurels among a 
 native race than brains could possibly do. It 
 was because of that disposition that Krishna 
 had learned to value his friendship, and he 
 was too jealous of it to jeopardize it by any 
 words or actions that might savour too 
 strongly of agitation. 
 
 But Fate was erecting a barrier that neither 
 of them could have foreseen. It made its 
 appearance that night. They had been 
 smoking in silence for a few minutes, when 
 suddenly Graham rose from his chair, walked 
 to the window, and, throwing open the 
 shutter, looked out across the city. 
 
 " By Jove ! what a night ! " he exclaimed. 
 " Wonder what they'd give for a slice of that 
 old moon in London ? You have a glorious 
 view from here, Krish. Why, you can see — 
 
 yes, quite plainly Come here, old man ; 
 
 look yonder, in the direction of my finger. 
 Do you see that clump of palms and mangoes 
 — there, just beyond the native quarter — 
 there ? Now you can see the moonlight just 
 touching the fringe. Look, it is creeping up !
 
 96 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 Now you can see the white steps of the 
 veranda. You see it, eh ? " 
 
 Krishna had walked to the window and was 
 looking over his shoulder. 
 
 " Krish " — ^there was a catch in his voice 
 that made the other start — " Krish, she lives 
 there — Charlotte, Miss Bressane. You re- 
 member her — at the garden-party ? A 
 beautiful woman, Krish — a good woman." 
 The last few words died away in a whisper. 
 Neither spoke for a few minutes. Graham 
 quietly closed the shutters and resumed his 
 seat. 
 
 " Suppose you haven't seen much of that 
 fellow Skew lately ? " He asked the question 
 lazily, as though he were not particularly 
 anxious for a reply. 
 
 " Only once since the introduction," said 
 Krishna. " How long have you known him ? " 
 
 " About as long as I've known Miss 
 Bressane," was the ambiguous reply. 
 
 " I forgot that I owe you an apology for 
 quarrelling with your parents' guest." 
 Krishna was holding out his cigarette at 
 arm's length, and flicking off the white ash 
 with his long, tapering fingers. 
 
 " Why didn't you pull his nose, literally 
 instead of metaphorically ? "
 
 THREE MEN AND A WOMAN 97 
 
 " You hate him ? " 
 
 " Hate him ? No, I don't know that I hate 
 anyone. Hatred is only an admission of weak- 
 ness to the other fellow. By Jove ! " — he 
 slapped his knee with gusto — " the pater 
 would credit me with an aphorism. Wonder 
 where I heard it. No, I don't exactly hate 
 the Major, but I certainly dislike him." 
 
 "Much? " 
 
 " What a stickler you are for detail ! Well, 
 can't say that I'd sign a crepe chit if he 
 happened to break his neck or got kissed by a 
 cobra. No more would you ; no more would 
 anybody that I know of." 
 
 " I wonder ! " It was half whisper, half 
 sigh. 
 
 " What the devil are you driving at ? " 
 Graham demanded irritably. 
 
 " I was only thinking. I suppose that is 
 natural ? " 
 
 " Natural, but damned annoying." 
 
 " Sorry ! Is Major Skew an Englishman, 
 Graham ? " 
 
 " God forbid ! Skew ! He's no more 
 Skew than you or I. He's more of a mystery 
 than a Major. Ask him the name of his 
 regiment ! None of the military knows any- 
 thing about him excepting that he's hunting
 
 98 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 for health. Blamed queer country for the 
 quest. I believe he's had something to do 
 with the Volunteers at home. Anyway, he came 
 out here with plenty of introductions to the 
 staff at headquarters, and, although they 
 give him the cold shoulder, he's allowed to 
 go pretty much where he likes." 
 
 " Lack of discretion on the part of the 
 military authorities." 
 
 " 'Tis a bit slack, and the Major's not a fool, 
 mind you. Heard Gennings of the York- 
 shires say in the club the other night that 
 the beggar knew more about the fortifications 
 of the country and the disposition of troops 
 than the Old Man himself." 
 
 Krishna's cigarette had gone out, and he 
 was leaning forward, his eyes glistening and 
 his lips slightly apart ; as Graham paused, 
 he fell back in his chair and assumed an air 
 of disinterestedness. 
 
 " I wonder," he said, reaching for another 
 cigarette, " how he became acquainted with 
 Miss Bressane ? " 
 
 Graham's face was clouded for a moment. 
 "I'd sign a mighty big chit to know," he said 
 sullenly ; then, with unwonted fierceness : 
 " But don't you get it into your head that 
 he's anything to her except a friend. I'll —
 
 THREE MEN AND A WOMAN 99 
 
 I'll pull the tongue out of the man that 
 suggests it." 
 
 Krishna's eyes became heavy and glazed ; 
 his breath came in painful gasps : something 
 sharp and cold seemed to have been plunged 
 into his side. The next moment he regained 
 his composure, but Graham's voice seemed 
 hard and distant and metallic. 
 
 " There's a tennis-party at Agra Nook on 
 Wednesday evening," he was saying. " Will 
 you come ? " 
 
 Krishna's eyes opened and closed again 
 wearily. 
 
 " She asked me at the mater's show to 
 invite you. Fact ! " 
 
 " I will come if you wish it." 
 
 " Of course. Skew '11 be there." 
 
 " Do you mind ? " 
 
 Graham was walking to the window. He 
 turned half round at the question. 
 
 " I was thinking of you," he said frankly. 
 He came back to Krishna's side. " The 
 fellow's an unmxitigated cad. He was rude 
 to you once, and may be so again." 
 
 " Well ? " Krishna's voice was curiously 
 weak. 
 
 " Well, you're my friend — that's all " ; 
 and he held out his hand. " Good night, old
 
 100 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 swatter," he said cheerfully. " Don't forget 
 the tennis-show. Fll call round for you." 
 
 " Good night," said Krishna softly, " and 
 may the pleasures of Wednesday evening 
 meet with your heart's desire." 
 
 Graham halted on the threshold, turned, 
 and went over to the window. 
 
 " Look ! " he said, and there was that in 
 his face that the other had never seen before 
 — " look ! Yonder, in that tiny compound, 
 is my heart's desire." 
 
 Krishna looked across the city to where 
 the light of the moon fell like a silver mantle 
 on Agra Nook. When he turned again to his 
 study table the only man in India who was 
 really " white " to him had gone.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE STRANGER FROM NEON 
 
 THE unfathomable mystery surround- 
 ing Miss Charlotte Bressane, who, as 
 Graham Dennis had on one occasion re- 
 marked, " dropped from the rigging of a 
 coaster," was sufficient to insure a crowd at 
 her first tennis-party — the first she had held. 
 It is one of the anomalies of life that, no 
 matter how much men and women may pride 
 themselves on their respectability, a breath 
 of scandal is to their nostrils what an aniseed- 
 baU is to a stoat. Apart from what they 
 termed her eccentric and suspicious mode 
 of living alone. Miss Bressane's marked reti- 
 cence when the discussion veered round to 
 and bordered on her history threw a doubtful 
 shadow on a personality that even the women 
 admitted was charming. During the early 
 days of her residence in the city she en- 
 countered the inevitable frown of distrust, 
 but she met it with a serenity of countenance 
 that alone would have disarmed suspicion in 
 time. 
 
 Then Major Skew appeared on the scene, 
 and although his history was a book as 
 sealed as her own, his avowed friendship for 
 her paved the way to toleration of them 
 
 lOI
 
 102 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 both. His " militarism " was sufficient 
 recommendation for him. The world is more 
 generous to a man than to a woman. Before 
 they had been two months in Madras they 
 were able to pick and choose their invitations. 
 The greatest trial of a colonial hostess is 
 the attracting of suitable males to her 
 functions. Miss Bressane as a magnet became 
 invaluable. 
 
 When Graham Dennis and Krishna arrived 
 at Agra Nook the tennis tournament was in 
 progress, and a gaily dressed throng of men 
 and women were keeping the native boys on 
 the run with iced drinks and cooling fruit. 
 The hostess, in white chiffon, touched here 
 and there with a loop of blue, was in the 
 centre of a group of simpering, sighing 
 young men, while immediately behind them 
 were Major Skew and a foreigner whom 
 Graham had never before seen. As the late- 
 comers made their appearance, Miss Bressane 
 came forward to greet them. Graham's face 
 flushed as he gently pressed her white tapering 
 fingers ; Krishna's was stern and rigid and 
 expressionless. 
 
 " I should have been keenly disappointed 
 had you failed to come." She was speaking 
 to him and holding out her hand, but he
 
 THE STRANGER FROM NEON 103 
 
 seemed to have neither heard nor seen. Yet 
 his black, penetrating eyes were looking down 
 into hers — down into her very soul. When 
 he spoke, his voice was deep and vibrated 
 like the sensitive string of a musical instru- 
 ment. 
 
 " I appreciate the compliment," he said ; 
 and as she drew away her hand a cold smile 
 that was akin to cynicism revealed his white 
 gleaming teeth. 
 
 " If Graham had not brought you, I 
 think I should have compelled him to go 
 with me to ferret you out. Bold, eh ? " 
 And she laughed — a quiet, seductive laugh 
 that would have thrilled the ecstatic 
 Graham. 
 
 " Yes," he replied calculatingly, " it would 
 have been bold — in a weak woman." 
 
 She turned to Graham with an in- 
 quiring look and a shrug of her pretty 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Oh, Krishna has an original way of 
 expressing himself at times," he laughed — 
 " reminds me of a fool hen trying to lay a 
 coloured egg." 
 
 " You will let me introduce you to the 
 other guests ? " she said. Her eyes were 
 still on Krishna, her voice tremulous ;
 
 104 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 vivacity had given place to timidity. Some- 
 thing in the man's mien fascinated, awed her. 
 Only a glance at the dark, set face, with its 
 bright, piercing eyes, and levity changed to 
 drab, grey seriousness. Graham's own broad, 
 honest countenance darkened for an instant ; 
 the troubled look on the woman's aroused in 
 him resentment against the man who appeared 
 to hold his friendship so cheaply. Then his 
 great good-nature asserted itself. 
 
 " Come, you old fossil ! " he cried ; "we 
 don't want a ghost at the feast." 
 
 Krishna started. " I beg your pardon," 
 he said softly to the wondering woman, but 
 there was no contrition in the voice. 
 
 They went forward to the group that 
 included Major Skew and the foreigner whom 
 they had noticed at the moment of their 
 arrival. The Major, following a warning 
 glance from Miss Bressane, bowed stiiHy. 
 The foreigner came forward with alacrity 
 and stood expectantly before Krishna, rub- 
 bing his palms together obsequiously, and 
 drawing in his breath between his teeth. 
 He was exceedingly short of stature, and his 
 lower limbs seemed to be crying out against 
 the discomforts of their European covering. 
 His head was small and peculiarly rounded ;
 
 THE STRANGER FROM NEON 105 
 
 the hair had been cropped close to the scalp, 
 revealing unsightly blotches that might have 
 been old wounds ; the eyes were more like 
 slits, and the nose was broad and spreading ; 
 the teeth protruded, and showed a prodigality 
 of gold filling. 
 
 " This is Count Cimea," said Miss Bressane, 
 coming forward, and Krishna could not con- 
 ceal a smile as the little man drew in his 
 breath with redoubled energy and bowed with 
 the regularity of an automaton. " Count," 
 she continued, " this is Mr. Krishna, of whom 
 I spoke this morning. Your study of life in 
 India would not have been complete had you 
 failed to meet him." 
 
 " I have often heard of you in Neon," said 
 the Count, with another bow and a fresh 
 intake of air. 
 
 " Indeed ! " Krishna was genuinely sur- 
 prised. 
 
 Miss Bressane turned quickly at the 
 Count's remark. " I had no idea that you 
 were so famous," she cried to Krishna. 
 " The people of Neon have large ears. Count, 
 eh?" 
 
 " Neon ! " It was Krishna who spoke. 
 The word had barely left his lips, when the 
 stolid expression returned to his countenance,
 
 io6 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 and he appeared not to take the sHghtest 
 interest in the Count's reply. 
 
 The group moved towards the tennis-courts. 
 Major Skew, the Count, and Dennis entered 
 into a controversy on sport generally ; 
 Miss Bressane and Krishna brought up 
 the rear. Her old buoyancy of spirits 
 returned. 
 
 " You had not met the Count before ? " 
 She asked the question carelessly, but he 
 gave her a suspicious glance. 
 
 " No," he said shortly. " Why do you 
 ask ? " 
 
 " Merely curiosity. He is an omniscient 
 sort of man, and when I mentioned your 
 name this morning it was obvious to me 
 that it was not the first time he had 
 heard it." 
 
 " You are observant. Miss Bressane." 
 
 " I can't afford to be otherwise in this 
 country. I should die of ennui else." 
 
 " I believe that many of my countrymen 
 have studied and are studying in Neon. It 
 is so much cheaper than in Europe." 
 
 " And more congenial in other respects ? " 
 She seemed anxious to draw him out, 
 and he was equally determined not to be 
 drawn.
 
 THE STRANGER FROM NEON 107 
 
 " In Neon there is nothing of that 
 racial prejudice about which you are so 
 bitter." 
 
 " I have never been there, so cannot say," 
 he said abruptly ; but she refused to be 
 shaken off so easily. 
 
 " The Count is a very intellectual man, I 
 should say, but I believe that he is only a 
 type of a remarkable people." 
 
 " They are certainly an observant 
 people." 
 
 " And the West seems only too anxious to 
 encourage that particular faculty. Why are 
 they so blind at home ? " 
 
 " Are international politics your hobby ? " 
 he asked playfully, and the question had the 
 unexpected effect of changing her mood 
 entirely. 
 
 " Men and women in the East have little 
 else to think about," she replied, somewhat 
 lamely. " You see, we have not the social 
 attractions of London or Paris to keep us 
 amused ; a little scandal now and then 
 breaks the monotony, as it were — but even 
 scandal has grown tame." 
 
 " How long have you known the Count ? " 
 — ^this irrelevantly. 
 
 " About a couple of days. Major Skew
 
 io8 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 made his acquaintance and introduced 
 him." 
 
 " Government servant, perhaps ? " 
 " Can't say. Adventurer, I thought." The 
 look in her eyes convinced him that she was 
 trying to throw him off the scent, so he 
 dropped the subject. 
 
 A burst of laughter from Graham and a 
 look of pained surprise on the face of the 
 Count diverted the thoughts of the man and 
 woman as they sauntered up to the trio. 
 " You're quite right," Graham was saying, 
 " we have an old song to that effect, but I 
 can assure you there are heaps of white slaves 
 in India. Take that young man who is 
 returning the ball now. Do you think he 
 would stay in this climate a single day if he 
 could get out of it ? Never heard of a chit- 
 bound slave. Count ? Well, you will if you 
 stay here long enough. Steel chains are 
 nothing to a chitty's meshes, and the worst 
 of it is a chitty is absolutely indispensable. 
 You commence by pushing him off the pave- 
 ment when you meet him in the street, 
 and you finish by going down on your 
 knees to him. He's the canker-worm of the 
 East, but it'll take a sharp hoe to weed him 
 out."
 
 THE STRANGER FROM NEON 109 
 
 " But you British are so domineering, so 
 strong, so " 
 
 " Yes, but only human, Count, and it's 
 wonderful the extremes a man'll go to in 
 order to raise the wind at the end of the 
 month. And there are some deuced short 
 months in the colonies." 
 
 Miss Bressane put a dainty white hand 
 over his mouth. " Poor boy ! you seem to 
 speak so feelingly," she laughed. 
 
 " Well, I've been through it," Graham 
 confessed, with a wry face. " I don't suppose 
 I'll ever get a chance to talk to them at home, 
 but if I had my way, I'd prosecute all parents 
 who allowed their sons to sneak out of 
 England and swelter in a colony under false 
 colours." 
 
 " You're enigmatical, Graham," she smiled, 
 " but I believe there is some little philosophy 
 in your mind." 
 
 " What I mean," said Graham, taking off 
 his topee and wiping his perspiring forehead — 
 " what I mean is that the wrong sort of 
 fellow comes out here. Either he has too 
 much money to necessitate his working for 
 more, or he has so little that he spends most 
 of his time in running round to chitties for 
 a loan."
 
 no THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " But the false colours ? " Miss Bressane 
 insisted. 
 
 " Well, there's a kind of youngster sent 
 out here who might have blossomed into a 
 respectable citizen at home. Perhaps his 
 father has a couple of acres of ground and 
 the proverbial cow, and when the lad comes 
 out here as a shipping-clerk, or something of 
 the sort, he soon learns that cows and farm- 
 ing aren't dignified. Social attractions are 
 limited, so he can't pick and choose, and 
 when Mrs. Grabb invites him to a bridge- 
 party, it puts pepper on his tail. He soon 
 loses what little money he's got, and then 
 he is initiated into the mysteries of chit- 
 signing. It's a wonderful thing, is the chit. 
 You commence by signing one for a drink, 
 and you get so used to its simplicity that the 
 time soon comes when you'd willingly sign 
 one for your seat in heaven. It's the poor 
 man's cheque-book, and that's where the 
 false colours come in. Mrs. Grabb and her 
 yellow-haired confederates fool him into 
 believing that he's two breeds better than 
 Don Juan. They look up at him from the 
 card-table, and call him a ' sporting dog,' 
 because when he's lost two hundred rupees 
 without squealing, he just grins and signs a
 
 THE STRANGER FROM NEON iii 
 
 chit for the amount. Then Miss Softeyes on 
 his left begins to look glum, because she's 
 been stuck in the same way. He signs 
 another chit for her, and passes it on to Mrs. 
 Grabb. They call him ' Bertie ' and ' old boy ' 
 and stick him in the ribs with their fingers. 
 He goes to his bungalow with the firmly 
 rooted impression that he's the gayest dog in 
 Madras, and if his coolie doesn't come to heel 
 at three in the morning with a cool melon 
 and a bromo-seltzer, he wallops him with 
 the heel of an old boot. I suppose he's 
 justified in calling himself a man of the 
 world, but somehow I can't help thinking 
 that both Mrs. Grabb and her pals would 
 have more respect for him if he'd give a 
 little more thought to the old man at home, 
 who may be smoking dried tea-leaves, as he 
 hoes his turnips, because he can't find any- 
 body to sign a tobacco chit for him." 
 
 It was the first time that Dennis had 
 preached a sermon, and although Miss 
 Bressane gave him a laugh for his pains, he 
 felt better for having delivered himself. 
 
 " Come," she said to Graham, " you and 
 I will oppose the Bairds in a double. If you 
 play tennis as well as you preach, I shall 
 have no reproach to offer at the end of the
 
 112 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 game." She took his arm and led him 
 towards the nets, and as he went he threw 
 back at Krishna a glance that was eloquent 
 of all he felt. 
 
 They won their game, and Graham led his 
 partner to a chair with the pride of a chieftain 
 bringing home a bride. To a woman less 
 versed in sign-reading the glowing admira- 
 tion in his eyes would have told its own tale. 
 His arm stole protectingly round the back 
 of her chair. She closed her eyes, as though 
 the exertion in the game had taxed her 
 strength. He did not speak, being content 
 to sit there and watch. Once, when she 
 opened her eyes languorously, she found his 
 head bent low to hers, and she aroused herself 
 with a start, a faint flush pinking her 
 cheeks. 
 
 " What a hostess ! " she cried. " What 
 will my guests think of me ? " 
 
 " Does it matter what they think ? " he 
 asked quietly, toying with her hair. 
 
 " You know them better than I do." 
 
 " Unfortunately, I do. They remind me 
 of a crowd of disagreeable people on a ship. 
 You're in for a long voyage, so the wisest 
 policy is to tolerate them with the best 
 possible grace, and pray God that the mate'll
 
 THE STRANGER FROM NEON 113 
 
 pile the boat on the rocks or get you to your 
 anchorage before your reason gives out." 
 
 " You're a dreadful cynic and a pessimist 
 at heart, Graham." 
 
 He shook his head and laughed with her. 
 " Optimism in India is another name for 
 insanity." 
 
 " Then, why do you remain ? " 
 
 He winced at the pertinence of the 
 question. 
 
 " You are not in that slave-galley to which 
 you alluded this evening ? " 
 
 "No, thank God ! I paid my ransom long 
 ago ; but there are one or two reasons why I 
 should not care to leave in a hurry." 
 
 " One is ? " She was beating a tattoo on 
 her knee with a tennis-racquet ; her chin was 
 tilted provokingly, and her eyes were laughing 
 into his. 
 
 " The first — ^well, Fve just fallen into a 
 good berth, and, having already been burned 
 to a cinder, I might as well stick in the oven 
 a little longer." 
 
 " And the second ? " 
 
 " Can't you guess ? " 
 
 She looked up wonderingly, and then, when 
 the big sun- wrinkled hand touched her fingers, 
 a low cry of pain broke from her lips. All the
 
 114 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 merriment died out of her face, and she sat 
 up in the chair as though she had been 
 struck. 
 
 " You don't mean that, Graham ? You're 
 foohng, aren't you ? " The soHcitude in her 
 voice cut him to the quick. 
 
 "I do ! I do, Charlotte. If ever a 
 man " 
 
 " Then forget it, boy — forget it all, and 
 now." Her earnestness sobered him, and 
 stayed the passionate words that were on his 
 lips. " If I have — ^if — oh, Graham boy, don't 
 say that I've given you cause to think like 
 that ! " She seemed obsessed with a fear 
 that shook every nerve in her body. He 
 remained silent, crushed. "I'm awfully 
 sorry, Graham." He felt her fingers wind 
 round his. " Oh, I'm sorry." She looked 
 about her despairingly. The guests were all 
 out of earshot. "I'm not going to lie to you, 
 boy. I like you more than you wiU ever 
 know, and I have known all along that you 
 liked me ; but " 
 
 " But, Charlotte ? " 
 
 " I thought you were stronger than most 
 of them, and could appreciate a friendship 
 for its own sake, and not for what it might 
 lead to."
 
 THE STRANGER FROM NEON 115 
 
 " I am only a man, Charlotte." 
 
 " Yes, I know, and one of the best — the 
 very best. You have always been good to 
 me, boy, and God knows there have been 
 times when I needed kindness." 
 
 He lifted his eyes from the ground, and a 
 lump came into his throat when he saw the 
 tears racing down her cheeks. He opened his 
 lips to speak, but, smiling bravely, she went 
 on : " Let me go through with it, boy. We 
 might as well understand one another now 
 as later, and — and I don't want to lose your 
 friendship." 
 
 " That can never happen." 
 
 " Ah ! you don't know. There are things 
 that you would be the first to condemn." 
 
 " Is it so serious as that ? " His face was 
 grave and deathly white. 
 
 She thought she caught the meaning of his 
 look, and shook her head. " No, not that, 
 boy," leaving him in doubt as to what " that " 
 meant. 
 
 " Then, what is there to fear ? " 
 
 " Don't ask me — please don't, Graham ! 
 Let us go on as before until " 
 
 " Until ? " 
 
 " Until it is impossible — that's all." 
 
 " There is no one else, Charlotte ? " 
 
 ^
 
 ii6 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " No one." She rose to her feet, and as he 
 took her hand, he could feel her trembling. 
 
 " Thank you, little woman," he whispered. 
 " Perhaps it was too much to expect, but I'm 
 going to live on hope, despite what you've 
 said." 
 
 The sun had gone ; a night-bird was calling 
 to its mate in the leaves of the acacia above 
 their heads. Graham hesitated a moment ; 
 then, raising her hand to his lips, he kissed it 
 tenderly. 
 
 " Poor boy ! " she murmured, and, turning, 
 ran lightly up the path to the house. He lit 
 a cigarette and went in search of Krishna. 
 His heart was light — lighter than it had ever 
 been before. She had given him hope, and 
 that was worth living for. 
 
 And then the echo of her appeal to him to 
 forget came floating down through the leaves, 
 and, like a rain-cloud, befogged him. What 
 was it that she had locked in her heart ? 
 what secret that he might not share ? 
 
 The sound of voices put a stop to his 
 reflections. He paused in his walk and 
 listened out of natural curiosity, and without 
 any desire to play the eavesdropper. He 
 heard the name Skew mentioned and then 
 his own. Taking the cigarette from his lips,
 
 THE STRANGER FROM NEON 117 
 
 that the burning end might not betray his 
 presence, he parted the leaves of a traveller- 
 palm that hid him from the speakers and 
 peered through. 
 
 Krishna and Count Cimea were whispering 
 together ! 
 
 " To-morrow at midnight, at your house," 
 he heard the Count say ; and the two returned 
 to the house by different paths.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE EYES OF THE IDOL 
 
 WHEN Graham reached the house he 
 found the majority of the tennis- 
 players had left, but several ladies, with 
 their intimate male friends, had settled down 
 at the inevitable card-tables. Miss Bressane 
 was moving in and out of the room with her 
 customary vivacity, throwing a jest here and 
 a snub there, whichever happened to be 
 appropriate. Krishna, the Count, and Major 
 Skew were seated at one table, with the 
 spirits and soda-water before them. All three 
 appeared to be in a hilarious mood, and the 
 Major, his face flushed and his eyes puffed, 
 was actually relating a story for Krishna's 
 ears only. Graham emitted a low whistle 
 of surprise and joined the trio at the 
 table. 
 
 It may seem incredible to the Western mind 
 that the house of a single lady could be given 
 up to the entertainment of a crowd of people 
 of both sexes, and the kind of entertainment 
 that to the more Puritanical might savour of 
 an orgy. But if Mrs. Grundy lived in some 
 colonies she would soon learn to stretch the 
 limits of decency. Prudery is a cold-weather 
 saint, and dies a natural death when she walks 
 
 ii8
 
 THE EYES OF THE IDOL 119 
 
 into a colony where the temperature is 
 never below 84° in the shade and the white 
 population never more than a few thou- 
 sands. 
 
 Graham seated himself next the Count and 
 joined in the conversation, which turned upon 
 the occult. The Major and the Count monopo- 
 lised the conversation, Krishna being content 
 for the most part to throw in an observation 
 here and there. The Count related instances 
 of the supernatural that had come to his ears 
 in his own land, and each instance was 
 explained away in a more or less satisfactory 
 manner by the excited and somewhat boister- 
 ous Major. 
 
 " Do you believe in the supernatural ? " 
 
 Miss Bressane had paused near the group. 
 She was looking with a half-amused, half- 
 incredulous smile at Krishna, who answered 
 gravely : " We cannot afford to laugh at 
 science." 
 
 " Ho, ho ! " roared the Major ; " and 
 where does the science come in ? Tell me 
 that. Give me a single instance of it, and 
 I'll not say another word." 
 
 " Yes, do," Miss Bressane cried laugh- 
 ingly, and then in a second her face became 
 grave. A clap of thunder shook the bungalow,
 
 120 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 and the women dropped their cards with faint 
 screams. 
 
 " Damn these monsoons ! " the Major 
 growled. " I've got five miles to go " ; and 
 he reached across for more soda. 
 
 A few minutes later the laughter was 
 renewed by the Major falling from his chair, 
 and in the confusion that followed the request 
 that had been made of Krishna was for- 
 gotten. 
 
 Miss Bressane had gone on to the veranda 
 to mark the weather, and was standing alone, 
 with one elbow resting against the wooden 
 pillar. The rain was beating down the foliage, 
 and lightning flashed through the cocoanut- 
 palms with alarming frequency. She was 
 thinking of all that had happened that evening. 
 Graham's words came back to her. 
 
 " Poor old boy ! " she muttered. " If he 
 only knew " 
 
 " He would be happy with your sympathy, 
 Miss Bressane ! " 
 
 She wheeled round with a cry of fear. 
 Krishna, a strange, deep fire in his large 
 eyes, was standing behind her. 
 
 " I did not know that you were listening," 
 she said, with a touch of anger. 
 
 " I crave your pardon," he replied, and
 
 THE EYES OF THE IDOL 121 
 
 she flinched before the steady gaze. " I 
 came to look for you that I might beg a 
 favour." 
 
 She recovered herself and stammered an 
 apology. 
 
 " It is this," he went on, appearing not to 
 have noticed her embarrassment. He held 
 out a small wooden idol, a hideous-looking 
 thing in ebony, that had doubtless been taken 
 from a Hindu temple. It was carved in a 
 crouching position, and two small green and 
 yellow stones served for eyes. " I took 
 the liberty of removing it from your side- 
 board, and came to ask if you valued it at 
 all." 
 
 " You are welcome to it," she said 
 graciously, taking it from him and ex- 
 amining it. 
 
 " The fact of its being there convinced me 
 that you are not so incredulous with regard to 
 the occult as you pretended to be a few 
 minutes ago." 
 
 " I don't quite foUow your argument," 
 she faltered. A strange, depressing feeling 
 of intense loneliness came over her as she met 
 his eyes. She made a movement as though 
 she would return to the house, then the con- 
 sciousness of her cowardice forced itself upon
 
 122 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 her, and she compressed her Ups and steadied 
 herself against the pillar. She felt nervous in 
 this man's presence. She wished that Graham 
 would join them and save her from betraying 
 her fear. 
 
 " Well, what do you think of it ? " She 
 knew that he referred to the idol in her hand 
 but his eyes never left hers. 
 
 " I don't think anything about it," she 
 said confusedly. " It has been on my side- 
 board for months. You are welcome to it. 
 
 I Oh ! my God ! Look ! look ! Its 
 
 eyes — eyes — are moving ! O God, help me ! 
 help ! " And she sank, fainting, into his 
 arms. 
 
 Her wild cries had alarmed the others, and 
 they trooped out on to the veranda. 
 
 " What has happened ? " asked Graham 
 hoarsely, taking the unconscious form in 
 his arms as though it were the form of a 
 child. 
 
 " I think the lightning must have startled 
 her," said Krishna in a low, calm voice. " I 
 came out here for a breath of air, and found 
 her on the floor." 
 
 Graham carried her into the house and, 
 with the tenderness of a woman, laid her on 
 the couch. He suffered none to approach
 
 THE EYES OF THE IDOL 123 
 
 her, not even the frightened women-folk 
 who, with white faces and breathless whispers, 
 crowded round. With his own hand he tore 
 away the flimsy muslin wrappings from her 
 white throat, and with his own handkerchief, 
 drenched in perfume, he smoothed the clammy 
 marble brow. 
 
 " Stand back," he cried authoritatively, 
 " and throw the shutters open. Hi ! punkah- 
 wala, juldi kuro ! curse you ! " and he 
 hurled an empty water-bottle at the sleeping 
 boy. 
 
 The Major was the first to recover himself. 
 "It is only the heat," he mumbled ; " leave 
 her alone and she'll come round." He stopped 
 short when he caught Graham's terrible 
 look. 
 
 Presently she opened her eyes, and the 
 indescribable expression of terror that was in 
 them forced an exclamation from the lips 
 of the man bending over her : " My God ! 
 what's wrong ? What has happened, 
 Charlotte ? " 
 
 " Ugh ! " She shuddered and pulled the 
 wrappings round her throat again. " It was 
 nothing," she murmured, " nothing, Graham, 
 
 only " He felt her fingers close round 
 
 his.
 
 124 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " Was it the lightning that startled you ? 
 It came so suddenly." 
 
 " No, it was " She saw among the 
 
 faces surrounding her two penetrating eyes 
 that seemed to be hanging on her syllables. 
 " Yes, it must have been the lightning," she 
 whispered, trying to smile at her own fears. 
 " How foolish of me to faint ! Thank you, 
 thank you, Graham ! " as he placed a glass 
 of water to her lips. " I feel quite well 
 already." 
 
 " We had better retire. Miss Bressane ; it 
 is unkind of us to impose upon you in your 
 condition." 
 
 It was Krishna who had come to her side, 
 and Graham felt her fingers tighten instinc- 
 tively on his. 
 
 " No, please don't go," she hastened, rising 
 from the couch ; " resume your games. The 
 night is young, and I should never forgive 
 myself for spoiling your evening." 
 
 With indecent haste they returned to the 
 tables, leaving Graham to minister to her 
 needs. In his heart a fire was burning that 
 years of indifference, no matter how studied, 
 could not extinguish. It was one of those 
 moments in a man's life when all that is 
 noblest in him comes to the surface and
 
 THE EYES OF THE IDOL 125 
 
 glorifies him for what he is, and not for what 
 he has been. 
 
 A few of the guests played on for another 
 hour, and then begged to be excused. Only 
 two of the women — one the wife of a Colonel 
 known off the parade-ground as the " May- 
 flower," because of his Presbyterian tend- 
 encies, and one " first seasoner " — remained 
 with the hostess and the men : Krishna, 
 Major Skew, the Count, and Graham Dennis. 
 They continued their games and conversation 
 for two more hours, and were thinking of 
 retiring when another storm, fiercer than the 
 last, broke over the district. It was impos- 
 sible for the women to venture out in their 
 light clothing. The men volunteered to go 
 in search of conveyances. Graham suggested 
 that the men brave the elements, and leave 
 the ladies in possession of the bungalow till 
 morning. All these propositions were nega- 
 tived by the whimsical yet startling suggestion 
 of the Colonel's wife that they should have a 
 little music and all stay in the house, providing 
 that the hostess could accommodate the ladies 
 in her room, the men to make the best of 
 native mats and share the remaining apart- 
 ments. 
 
 To Graham's astonishment. Miss Bressane
 
 126 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 offered no objection. It occurred to him that 
 her sense of propriety was being sacrificed to 
 Hngering fears of the something that had 
 terrified her earher in the evening. The 
 upshot of it all was that the party decided 
 to stay, and the " boys " were roused from 
 their slumbers to make ready the rooms and 
 unroll the mats. The Major and the Count 
 professed to regard the whole thing as a huge 
 joke, Krishna was silent, as usual, and Graham 
 went about with doubt written across his 
 sunburnt forehead. 
 
 On the ground floor of Agra Nook were the 
 dining-room, a reception-room, and one bed- 
 room. The servants' quarters stood away 
 from the main building, but were connected 
 with a passage roofed with dried grass and 
 bamboo. There were three bedrooms on the 
 top floor of the bungalow, forming three sides 
 of a square. The window of the room assigned 
 to Graham overlooked the roofed passage 
 already referred to, and on the immediate 
 right, but on the ground floor, was the window 
 of the dining-room. 
 
 It was after midnight when the ladies 
 retired, but the men remained over their 
 whisky and cigars for another hour or so. 
 It had been arranged that the Count and the
 
 THE EYES OF THE IDOL 127 
 
 Major should occupy one room, Graham and 
 Krishna taking the other two. Major Skew 
 was beginning to show signs of having pan- 
 dered to his thirst, and the Count seemed 
 even less capable of taking a sober view of 
 things. Graham's mind had been rendered 
 chaotic by the bewildering incidents of the 
 evening, but it was with great reluctance that 
 he followed the lead of the others when they 
 moved towards the stairs. 
 
 " I tell you, Krish, I don't Hke this 
 business," he whispered, as they went up 
 together. 
 
 " I have heard of Europeans paying less 
 respect to propriety," was the reply. 
 
 " Oh, I'm not squeamish — don't think that ; 
 but I tell you I don't like this. If it hadn't 
 been for one thing I'm hanged if I'd stay. The 
 whole of Madras will chortle over this, damn 
 them ! " 
 
 " What thing ? " 
 
 " You know what I mean. I believe that 
 dear girl was frightened out of her wits by 
 something or other, and was only too glad to 
 have us in the house to-night. I don't believe 
 that you understand the position, or you 
 wouldn't stand there with a face as stolid 
 as that of a blind mule."
 
 128 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " What position ? You're talking to your 
 own unexpressed thoughts." 
 
 The other men had entered their room. 
 Krishna was standing with a hand on the 
 latch of his door. 
 
 " What position ? " Graham echoed. " Well, 
 there are four men and three women in this 
 house. Do you want me to speak in plainer 
 terms ? " 
 
 " My dear fellow, honour is a stronger force 
 than lack of opportunity." 
 
 " What the devil do you mean by that ? " 
 cried Graham, his eyes ablaze, and his big, 
 strong frame quivering with anger. " Do you 
 think I'm concerned about the dangers those 
 women run in this house ? By Jove ! I'd 
 strangle any man here who injured them by so 
 much as a look. It's the danger from outside, 
 on the morrow, that I fear. You don't under- 
 stand the voracity of that beast Scandal." 
 
 Krishna opened the door of his room. 
 " Good night," he said wearily. " Sleep well, 
 and in the morning you will realize that the 
 excitement of to-night magnified your fears. 
 You see that I sleep in the room next to yours. 
 Call me if anything untoward happens." 
 
 Graham waited until he heard the key turn 
 in the lock before he entered his own room.
 
 THE EYES OF THE IDOL 129 
 
 And that night something did happen — 
 something that came to Graham's already 
 troubled mind as a blinding, biting sand- 
 storm comes to the sun-parched, despairing 
 wanderer on the desert.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 TRUMP CARDS 
 
 AFTER hearing the key turned in the 
 -/jL lock of Krishna's door, Graham quietly 
 undressed, and, lighting a cigarette, threw 
 himself down on the rice-mat. Although the 
 hour was late, the activity of his brain drove 
 sleep away. He lay with his face turned 
 towards the window, listening to the rain 
 driving through the trees and spattering with 
 noisy clatter on the roof. Vainly he tried 
 to collect his thoughts, to think out calmly 
 and deliberately each incident of that eventful 
 evening. Now he was standing with her 
 beneath the spreading arms of the acacia ; 
 he was looking down into her great, soulful 
 eyes ; her lips were parted and challenging 
 his ; he was bending down to them. A little 
 more, and there were Krishna's dark eyes 
 peering at them through the undergrowth. 
 Why Krishna ? He asked the question aloud, 
 then fell to dreaming of her again. He was 
 raising her white, delicate hand to his lips. 
 She was panting like a frightened fawn. He 
 could feel the tremor that surged through 
 her. His lips were touching her fingers. 
 The cry of his heart was swelling up in 
 his throat, and there was Krishna again, 
 
 130
 
 TRUMP CARDS 131 
 
 and behind him the ugly Uttle Count with 
 the narrow eyes. 
 
 He got up and walked to the window. The 
 rain had ceased, but the wind of the south- 
 west monsoon was driving the heavy clouds 
 across the moon. A thick, humid vapour was 
 rising from the half-baked ground. He went 
 back to his mat, and noticed for the first time 
 the whisky and siphon that had been placed 
 near the head-roll. He blessed the thought ful- 
 ness of the " boy," and poured himself out a 
 stiff tumblerful of the spirit. It might soothe 
 his restlessness and induce sleep. He raised 
 the glass and 
 
 A soft, stealthy footfall outside his door 
 arrested the tumbler as it reached his lips. 
 He replaced the glass on the floor and 
 listened. Instinct told him that whoever 
 the visitor might be, an ear was glued to the 
 keyhole. Graham simulated sleep by snoring 
 loudly and regularly. He glanced round for 
 a weapon. The soda-siphon suggested itself, 
 and he gripped it by the neck, snoring loudly 
 the while. To his surprise, the door was not 
 tried. He heard the footsteps die away in 
 the stillness, and all was quiet again. Stealing 
 to the window, he looked down at the servants' 
 quarters, but there was not a movement that
 
 132 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 could arouse suspicion. Experience of his 
 habits taught him that the native thief 
 preferred to pilfer the servants' meagre 
 savings rather than risk the revolver-shots 
 of the European. He was about to turn 
 away from the window and call Krishna, 
 when suddenly a tiny stream of light poured 
 out from between the shutters of the dining- 
 room below him. Only for a second did it 
 glimmer among the foliage. Whoever was 
 moving about in the room had realized the 
 danger of a light and had quickly turned it 
 off. It was a bright, white light, and not one 
 that could have come from an oil-lamp, such 
 as was used in the bungalow. The fact con- 
 vinced the watcher that it was not a native 
 with whom he had to deal. 
 
 Undesirous of raising a false alarm — for, 
 after all, it might be one of the servants 
 returning in search of something that had 
 been left on the supper-table — Graham 
 waited in silence for a few minutes. Then 
 another and an awful solution of the mystery 
 suggested itself to his mind, but he dismissed 
 it as unworthy of him. " Honour is a stronger 
 force than lack of opportunity." Krishna's 
 words recurred to him, and he hated himself 
 for thinking as he had done. Then another
 
 TRUMP CARDS 133 
 
 soft footfall outside his door hurried him back 
 to his mat, and again his snores proved an 
 effective subterfuge. 
 
 But the mystery was deepening. He could 
 bear the suspense no longer. His hand was 
 on the door, when a new idea occurred to him, 
 Slipping on his clothing, he quietly opened the 
 shutters of the window. The distance from 
 the sill to the grass roof of the passage was 
 only four or five feet. He dropped down 
 noiselessly and reached the ground. The rain 
 had commenced to fall again, and the pattering 
 on the broad leaves of the palms helped to 
 drown any noise that he made. He crept on 
 his hands and knees to the shutter through 
 which the light had streamed. He found the 
 chink in the woodwork, and peered in. On 
 the opposite side of the dining-room was 
 another window, the shutters of which had 
 been left partly open. Through the crevice 
 a shaft of moonlight poured into the room. 
 At first Graham could not distinguish any 
 living object, but as he watched the tiny 
 bright light burst out again, and then he saw 
 a spectacle that filled him with astonishment 
 and burning indignation. 
 
 In one corner of the room stood a small 
 writing-desk of the Davenport pattern, and,
 
 134 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 kneeling near it, guided in his movements by 
 a small electric scarf-pin fastened on the 
 breast of his sleeping-suit, v/as Count Cimea ! 
 
 It was evident that he was bent on forcing 
 the lock without leaving too obvious traces of 
 its having been tampered with. He was 
 working quickly, yet noiselessly, and at inter- 
 vals he turned off the light, as though to 
 satisfy himself that no one was moving over- 
 head. 
 
 Once he turned his head in the direction 
 of Graham, and the expression on it almost 
 startled the watcher into betraying his pres- 
 ence. It was an evil, cunning face. The 
 lines of dissipation that had marked it on the 
 previous evening had disappeared. Evidently 
 he had feigned intoxication in order to disarm 
 suspicion. The oblique, crafty eyes were 
 gleaming in triumph, and, when at last the 
 lid of the desk was opened, the thick Eastern 
 lips parted in a broad smile of satisfaction. 
 Quickly he thrust his hands into the pigeon- 
 holes, turning over the various letters and 
 documents that lay within. When he alighted 
 on the foolscap that he appeared to be in 
 search of, he rapidly broke the seal. 
 
 It was impossible for Graham to distinguish 
 what was written on the paper, but apparently
 
 TRUMP CARDS 135 
 
 it astounded the Count. His little eyes bulged 
 and his hands trembled so violently that the 
 paper shook as though blown by a wind. 
 Then, recovering himself, he proceeded, with 
 extraordinary despatch, to rearrange the con- 
 tents of the desk, and, taking a sheet of clean 
 foolscap, he commenced to make a copy of 
 that which he had stolen. As he worked his 
 face expanded in a sinister grin. Whatever 
 the copy, it amused him greatly. All his 
 movements were so deliberate and calculated 
 that Graham concluded he belonged to the 
 expert class of Continental thieves about 
 whose exploits so much had lately been 
 heard. And this was the man with whom 
 he had dined and supped — a man who had 
 accepted the hospitality of a confiding woman 
 in order to rob her during the night. 
 
 At last the task was over. The copy was 
 completed and sealed. Graham waited 
 breathlessly for the next move. The Count 
 held the two papers up in the light of his pin ; 
 the copy he returned to the desk. Then he 
 rose and stood for a moment, apparently 
 cudgelling his brains for a hiding-place. He 
 was too clever a thief to carry the paper on 
 his person and run the risk of being searched. 
 Stepping lightly across the room, he picked
 
 136 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 up his walking-stick, which had been left in 
 the corner overnight. It was a curiously 
 carved stick, and the watcher at the window 
 felt that, if necessary, he could identify it 
 among a thousand. The Count deftly un- 
 screwed the ferrule, rolled up the foolscap, and 
 inserted it in the hollow of the stick. The 
 ferrule replaced, he left the stick in the corner, 
 stretched himself lazily, and wiped the per- 
 spiration from his brow. He even lifted the 
 spirit decanter and poured himself out a 
 glassful of whisky, which he swallowed neat 
 without so much as a wink. 
 
 A cloud drifted across the moon, and once 
 again the room was plunged in darkness. 
 When the light reappeared the Count was 
 groping his way to the door. Graham saw 
 him start back in terror as, in the semi- 
 blackness, his outstretched hand touched the 
 cold steel of an ancient suit of armour which 
 stood near the door, and served the purpose 
 of a hatstand. Another minute and he was 
 gone. 
 
 Graham himself was about to withdraw, 
 satisfied that one act of the little drama was 
 over, when a movement behind the shutters 
 on the other side of the room arrested his 
 attention.
 
 TRUMP CARDS 137 
 
 " What in the name of " he began 
 
 softly, when the shutters opened noiselessly 
 and Miss Bressane peered into the room. 
 
 " Great heavens ! What is the meaning 
 of it all ? " Graham muttered. 
 
 The woman's face was deathly pale, and 
 when the moonlight fell upon her he per- 
 ceived that she was dressed only in her night- 
 robes. As she stepped down from the window 
 her bare feet peeped out, their clear whiteness 
 standing out in striking relief against the dark 
 matting. Her robe was thrown open at the 
 neck, as though she had started hurriedly 
 from her bed, without waiting to study her 
 appearance. Her hair fell in masses about her 
 like a dark wrapper. She paused for a second, 
 her hand on the shutter, the moonlight play- 
 ing lovingly upon her features. Her head 
 was inclined to catch the slightest sound, her 
 eyes wide open in fear and apprehension. 
 
 Graham, thrilled as he never had been 
 thrilled and his heart beating wildly, watched 
 her with growing bewilderment. He felt 
 powerless to intervene. His tongue might 
 have been tied with threads of steel ; his 
 limbs were as the limbs of a fascinated, help- 
 less creature in the face of impending disaster 
 which it could not avert. But in that moment,
 
 138 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 when her soft, supple form stood against the 
 window, caressed by the white arms of the 
 moon, he saw her as he had never seen her 
 before. He was not by any means an imagina- 
 tive man, but she appeared to him then as an 
 angel newly descended from heaven. 
 
 And her quest ? 
 
 Slowly she crept to the writing-desk, opened 
 it, and ran her eyes over the papers. She 
 seized with alacrity upon the one the Count 
 had placed there, stopped a moment to listen, 
 then crept across to the walking-stick. She 
 unscrewed the ferrule, took out the original 
 paper and substituted the copy. Graham 
 caught a glimpse of her face as she recrossed 
 the room, and he smiled in sympathy with her 
 look of triumph. Returning to the writing- 
 desk, she put back the precious paper, care- 
 fully turned the key in the lock, and left the 
 room by the door as the Count had done. 
 
 " And they call that the weaker sex ! " 
 muttered Graham. " She's trumped the 
 Count's trick with a vengeance. And now, 
 good Lord, what may be the next move in 
 this game of hide-and-seek ? " 
 
 As if in answer to his half-whispered in- 
 vocation, the steel suit of armour moved, 
 opened, and the figure of a man stepped out.
 
 TRUMP CARDS 139 
 
 Graham's eyes leaped in their sockets and a 
 gurgUng sound burst from his hps. The man 
 in the room stopped dead and remained, out 
 of the light of the moon, as motionless as the 
 steel figure that had been his hiding-place. 
 Graham held his breath, and the man, after 
 listening intently for the sound to be repeated, 
 crossed to the desk, inserted a key of his own, 
 took out the fateful foolscap, scanned it 
 quickly, and placed it in his pocket. Then 
 he, too, left the room by the door, and as he 
 passed through the shaft of light Graham saw 
 the quiet, cjmical smile that was playing 
 about the corners of his mouth. 
 
 It was Krishna ! 
 
 Numb with amazement, Graham climbed 
 back to his bedroom, removed his clothes, and 
 lay down on his mat to think. Some plot was 
 on foot, but what ? And she, Charlotte, the 
 woman for whose smiles he would willingly 
 lay down his life, was implicated in some way 
 or other. He began to see why Krishna had 
 been so anxious to stay in the house. He 
 began to see a reason for every " innocent " 
 movement that had led up to Charlotte's 
 swooning on the veranda. Was that part of 
 the plot ? 
 
 He put his hand to his forehead, and
 
 140 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 withdrew it — wet and cold and damp. He 
 remembered her words beneath the acacia : 
 *' There are things that you would be the 
 first to condemn." They recurred to him 
 with terrible vividness. What did she mean ? 
 And Krishna ! — what role was he playing in 
 the drama ? 
 
 He reached for the tumblerful of whisky 
 which he had left on the floor near his mat. 
 He must soothe his nerves and rest. He lifted 
 the glass to his lips, and, with an exclamation 
 of horror, lowered it again. 
 
 " The deuce ! " he growled. " Whew I So 
 they deemed it necessary to keep me quiet 
 for an hour or two." He smelt the liquor 
 again and smiled. " There are bunglers in the 
 party. A little harmless laudanum — enough 
 for five hours' healthy sleep, I should say. 
 The beggars are considerate, anyway, but I 
 call it a damned insult to the intelligence of a 
 medical student."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE OTHER MAN 
 
 GRAHAM was the last to take his seat 
 at the breakfast-table next morning. 
 As he entered the room he was almost led to 
 believe that the incidents of the previous 
 night were but the phantasmagoria of a 
 nightmare. Miss Bressane was serving the 
 coffee, and she paused with a cup in her 
 hand to wish him " Good morning ! " The 
 Colonel's wife was chatting merrily with 
 Krishna. Even the Count had an air of 
 tranquillity about him, and had engaged the 
 Major in an animated discussion on the 
 relative merits of floating mines and sub- 
 marines. 
 
 " Lazy ! " Miss Bressane called. " Even 
 the invalid was up before you." 
 
 " Perhaps the invalid did not sleep so 
 soundly," he replied significantly, scrutinizing 
 her face as he reached for his coffee. She did 
 not betray herself by the slightest movement, 
 and the others did not gather anything, 
 apparently, from the remark. He glanced 
 casually round the room. There was the suit 
 of armour, that might never have been 
 touched, judging from its appearance. He 
 could discern even a thin coating of dust on 
 
 141
 
 142 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 the visor. A vase of roses had been placed 
 on the writing-desk in the corner. 
 
 Breakfast over, they parted from the 
 hostess, and in rickshaws took their several 
 ways to their homes. It was midday when 
 a coolie from Agra Nook arrived at the 
 Slaney-Dennis bungalow with a message for 
 Graham. He was lying in a chair on the 
 veranda, awaiting the tifftn-bell, when the 
 message arrived ; but when he caught a 
 glimpse of the handwriting on the envelope, 
 he sprang up as though he had inadvertently 
 sat on a cobra. He tore open the envelope 
 and read : 
 
 " Dear Graham, 
 
 " Can you run over at once ? Some- 
 thing urgent — terribly urgent. 
 
 "C. B." 
 
 A gharry was passing the bungalow at 
 the moment. Without any hesitation he 
 ran down the garden and leaped into the 
 vehicle. " Agra Nook, and quickly," he 
 cried ; and the driver, with painful experience 
 of white sahibs' irritability, yelled at his pony 
 like one suddenly possessed of a devil. 
 
 She was waiting on the veranda for him. A 
 glance at her face recalled every incident of
 
 THE OTHER MAN 143 
 
 the night's mystery. Her cheeks were palhd, 
 and a hunted, despairing expression dwelt in 
 her eyes. Agitation showed itself in the way 
 she plucked at the sleeves of her morning 
 wrapper. 
 
 " Thank God you've come I " she breathed, 
 almost dragging him into the dining- 
 room. 
 
 He did not question her — just followed, 
 mute and submissive. The first thing that 
 attracted his attention was the writing-desk, 
 now open, with its contents scattered on the 
 floor. 
 
 " I want you to help me, Graham. Can 
 you ? Will you ? " Her hand was on his 
 arm, her appealing face close to his. 
 
 " Help you, Charlotte ? " It was a low 
 vibrating cry — the cry of a waiting, hungry 
 man, to whom at last is vouchsafed the protec- 
 tion of the woman he loves. It was the 
 upheaval of emotion long suppressed, and it 
 brought the colour back to her cheeks. 
 
 " Anything ! anything ! " 
 
 She allowed his arm to encircle her shoulders 
 — allowed him to draw her tightly to him. 
 There was refuge in his big strong arms, a 
 haven that meant peace. 
 
 " Something has happened, Graham — some-
 
 144 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 thing so terrible that my poor brain is nigh to 
 bursting." 
 
 " Go on, Charlotte." His face had assumed 
 a pallor that startled her, and she felt his arms 
 tighten round her. 
 
 " There was something in that desk that 
 meant more to me than I can tell you of. It 
 has been stolen, and stolen during the night ! " 
 
 " What was it ? " The cold ring made her 
 wince. 
 
 " A document, Graham — an ordinary sheet 
 of foolscap, sealed with a grey seal." 
 
 " An ordinary sheet of foolscap I " There 
 was a sneer in his voice, and she drew back 
 in alarm. " Charlotte, look up at me. Now ! 
 An ordinary sheet of foolscap ! Have you 
 sent for me to test my credulity ? Look me 
 straight in the eyes, little woman, and tell me 
 if my love is so cheap that you cannot afford 
 to give me a little of your confidence." 
 
 " Don't talk like that, Graham — please 
 don't. You agreed only yesterday. I want 
 you to help me — ^you, only you. Here in this 
 country I have only one friend that I can 
 trust implicitly — ^you, Graham boy ; I mean 
 you. That is why I sent for you." 
 
 He took her two hands, stretched out to 
 him so beseechingly.
 
 THE OTHER MAN 145 
 
 " This document does not belong to me, 
 Graham. I swear it, although it was in my 
 
 desk. It Oh, boy, can't you see my 
 
 dilemma, and be sorry for me ? A sheet of 
 foolscap sealed with a grey seal. You could 
 not mistake it among a thousand. The seal 
 is a broken stiletto — my own design — and I 
 can give you the first clue, if you will only say 
 that you'll help me." 
 
 " To whom does it belong, Charlotte ? " 
 
 Her gesture of impatience annoyed him. 
 He dropped her hands and turned as though 
 he would leave. 
 
 " Oh, Graham, can't you trust me ? can't 
 you feel for me just a little ? " 
 
 He was back at her side, clasping her 
 wildly, passionately. " Feel for you, Char- 
 lotte ? I do, and I want to help you, kiddie. 
 But can't you understand my position ? 
 How can you expect me to work in the dark ? 
 This document, upon which so much seems 
 to depend, is not yours, you say. Then, how 
 can its disappearance affect you to — to this 
 extent ? " And he held her at arm's length. 
 " You can acquaint those who lodged it with 
 you of the loss, and doubtless they will seek 
 the aid of the police." 
 
 The long silence that followed was broken
 
 146 THE CHOSEN 01^ THE GODS 
 
 only by her deep and laboured breathing. 
 Her brow was puckered in thought. 
 
 " Graham boy " — she was clinging to him 
 for support ; all self-restraint was thrown 
 to the winds — " Graham boy, look at me. 
 Listen ! What price would you set on the 
 love of a woman such as I ? " 
 
 " What price ? " He caught at her arms 
 — her soft, warm arms — and drew them 
 round his neck. " What price ? Oh, my 
 God ! " he cried huskily, " my life and 
 more ! " 
 
 " Graham " — she took him at the flood of 
 his emotion — " say you will help me. You 
 can find it ; I know you can. Bring it back 
 to me, and " 
 
 " And ? " 
 
 " Not yet, Graham — not yet. Just promise, 
 and then let me — let me think." 
 
 " Yes, I will find it, if it is possible to 
 find it." 
 
 " It is. You know who were in the house 
 last night." 
 
 " And you suspect ? " 
 
 "The Count." 
 
 " Krishna might help us," he mused and 
 watched her face narrowly. 
 
 " No, no ! " she cried hurriedly. " Graham,
 
 THE OTHER MAN 147 
 
 I do not like him. He — he is not like other 
 men. He frightens me." 
 
 " Did Major Skew know that the document 
 was in the desk ? " It was a shot at random, 
 and she fell. 
 
 " Of course," she exclaimed, and then, con- 
 scious of the trap into which she had fallen, 
 she fell back into a chair with a low moan of 
 anguish. 
 
 " Of course ! " he echoed. " Why ' of 
 course ' ? You are fooling me, blinding me ! " 
 The words poured out in an angry torrent. 
 He strode across the room and seized his 
 sun-hat. She sprang to her feet and clutched 
 his arm. 
 
 " I will tell you, Graham — yes. 111 tell you. 
 Wait. Yes, the Major knew that it was there. 
 It was his — his and mine. boy, trust me ! 
 I feel so helpless." 
 
 " Charlotte " — cold and metallic, the word 
 chilled her — " what is the Major to you ? " 
 
 She shrank from him and passed her hand 
 wearily over her brow. 
 
 " Tell me," he demanded hoarsely. " Don't 
 wait to conjure up a lie. No answer ? Is it 
 true, then, what Madras has said of you ? 
 Is it true what Scandal's emissaries have 
 reported ? — true that this house of yours is
 
 148 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 but a weak, miserable ruse to hide a liaison, 
 and that you are nothing but his " 
 
 She strode towards him, her head thrown 
 back defiantly, her dark eyes flashing. 
 
 " They are liars ! " There was no trace of 
 feminine weakness on her face now ; she was 
 the strong-nerved woman prepared to vindi- 
 cate her honour at any cost. " Liars, all of 
 them ; and you — you are a coward for repeat- 
 ing their hideous scandal. Go ! — go back and 
 tell them what I have said. I ask you for 
 nothing now, only this : if you have one spark 
 of honour, respect my confidence of this 
 morning. Forget what I have asked you to 
 do for me and leave me to fight my own 
 battle." 
 
 He hesitated, took a step towards her, but 
 she waved him back. " Please go," she 
 repeated, and flung wide the door.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 SOLVING A MYSTERY 
 
 GRAHAM DENNIS accepted his dis- 
 missal as any other sensible man would 
 have done in the circumstances. There are 
 some women incapable of being misunder- 
 stood. Such a woman was Miss Bressane. 
 As he rode back he writhed under her taunt 
 of " coward." What a fall from Love's 
 pedestal ! How he reproached himself for his 
 crass stupidity ! She had appealed to him 
 with tears in her eyes for help in the moment 
 of trial. He had spurned her with sneers, and 
 in jealousy had cast the gravest of reflections 
 on her honour. And how grandly she had 
 met the calumny ! In an ecstasy at the 
 recollection of her proud defiance, he leaned 
 over and belaboured the rickshaw-boy lustily. 
 Then once again doubts and misgivings 
 crowded in upon him. What was the secret of 
 the writing-desk ? Why should the Count risk 
 so much to gain possession of it ? And why 
 should Krishna, the man he had made his 
 friend and lifted out of comparative obscurity, 
 play this deep, cunning game of diamond cut 
 diamond in order to outwit the Count ? Like 
 a flash the Count's mysterious words in the 
 garden recurred to him : " To-morrow at 
 
 149
 
 150 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 midnight at your house." Were the two 
 confederates, and was the house the meeting- 
 place where they might confer on their night's 
 work ? 
 
 The more he conjectured, the more baffling 
 the|, mystery became. The idea occurred to 
 him of appeahng to Krishna, whose friendship 
 he had not openly repudiated, whatever his 
 intention might be. Then he remembered 
 how repugnant the suggestion had been to her, 
 and he fell again to conjecturing. Although 
 she had dismissed him with bitter scorn, she 
 was still the life-prize that he must fight for. 
 She was worth the winning. Perhaps he had 
 never realized that so fully as now. And 
 Krishna, the man for whom he had brooked 
 the ill-concealed gibes of his friends who hated 
 " colour " with undying hate, held the key 
 to this woman's love. He would go to Krishna 
 and demand an explanation. H necessary, he 
 would threaten him with every incident of 
 the Agra Nook affair. He would go to him 
 and 
 
 Another light dawned upon him. He chided 
 himself for his lack of perspicacity. Long 
 residence in a plague-ridden, dried-up country, 
 where the relentless, scorching sun hunts you 
 out of every strip of shade the livelong day,
 
 SOLVING A MYSTERY 151 
 
 is sufficient to blunt the edge of any man's 
 comprehension. Inactivity renders the brain 
 sluggish, and even the totting up of chits at 
 the month end becomes an intolerable fag. 
 And so when the idea of playing the eaves- 
 dropper struck the somewhat phlegmatic 
 Graham, metaphorically he slapped himself 
 on the back and, stimulated by this encourage- 
 ment in his quest, he once more bestowed his 
 attention and the end of his cane on the 
 shoulders of the long-suffering rickshaw- 
 boy. 
 
 If Graham could have foreseen only half 
 the drama that was destined to be played in 
 the house of Kuppuswamy that night, he 
 would have been justified in thinking twice 
 ere he assumed the role of investigator. 
 
 Two hours before midnight he was on his 
 way to the hill-side bungalow. After passing 
 through the native quarter, he dismissed the 
 rickshaw and proceeded to walk the remainder 
 of the distance. His long association with 
 Krishna had familiarized him with every room 
 in the old vakil's residence. Many a night had 
 he sat with his friend at the feet of the phil- 
 osopher, and tried to follow the trend of the 
 old man's dreams of emancipation. Of 
 Lakshmi he had seen but little, a fact for
 
 152 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 which the customs of the country were 
 wholly responsible. 
 
 He had often visited Krishna at night, and, 
 in order not to disturb the native " boys," had 
 reached the study in the way he intended to 
 reach it that night. A low balcony ran around 
 the upper storey of the bungalow. A man of 
 Graham's height could touch it when standing 
 on the veranda beneath. By drawing himself 
 up a foot or so, he could clutch the stout 
 bamboo framework and swing himself on to 
 the flooring. Immediately above the veranda 
 steps was Kuppuswamy's apartment, and to 
 the left of this was a spare room, which 
 Graham himself had often occupied. At the 
 back of this was Krishna's laboratory, or 
 rather his operating theatre, where he was 
 wont to carry out anatomical experiments. 
 Beyond this room, and divided from it by a 
 thin partition of sliding panels, was Krishna's 
 study. 
 
 Graham was not surprised to find the bun- 
 galow in darkness. Kuppuswamy's sleep 
 commenced two hours after sundown, and 
 age sat heavily on his ears. Graham knew his 
 habits one by one, and felt secure from 
 surprise from that quarter. 
 
 A heavy, oppressive silence rested on the
 
 SOLVING A MYSTERY 153 
 
 house. Not a single light flickered from any 
 of the window-screens. The leaves of the trees 
 above and around him were as motionless as 
 the very trunks that gave them sap, and the 
 cacophony created by the cicada seemed only 
 to emphasize the silence. As he paused and 
 looked up at the balcony a rustling in a dwarf 
 mangrove on his right set his heart palpitating 
 with uncanny fear, and the subsequent low, 
 ominous hiss sent a cold shiver through him. 
 Once he reproached himself for stealing 
 like a thief in the night into the house of 
 a man whom he had been pleased to call 
 friend. It had been more worthy of him to 
 approach him in an open, courageous manner. 
 But the recollection of Charlotte's anguish 
 and Krishna's insincerity lent strength to 
 his original resolve, and, removing his boots, 
 he drew himself up and over the balcony. 
 This feat accomplished, he was undecided 
 what further course to pursue. There was 
 no doubt in his mind that the incidents of 
 the stolen document and the Count's whis- 
 pered words in the garden were closely 
 connected. If it were possible to overhear 
 this midnight conference, the secret of Agra 
 Nook would be a secret no longer. He took 
 out his repeater : it was after eleven o'clock.
 
 154 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 Treading lightly over the creaking boards of 
 the balcony, he reached the window of the 
 spare room. He had no difficulty in opening 
 it ; he never anticipated any, for his un- 
 orthodox method of entering the house at 
 night-time had long ago received the sanction 
 of Kuppuswamy, who was only too eager to 
 strengthen the bonds of friendship between 
 the two students. 
 
 Crossing the room, he cautiously drew aside 
 the panel which admitted him to the " bone- 
 yard," as he had often dubbed the experi- 
 menting room. It was in total darkness. He 
 put out his hand to feel his way to the opposite 
 wall, and drew it back with a half-smothered 
 exclamation when it touched the musty, 
 odorous wrappings of a mummy. Fearful 
 lest his cry should have betrayed him, he 
 crouched down on the floor and listened 
 intently. Not a sound ! He crept forward, 
 and stubbed his unprotected toe against an 
 unwieldy fossil. Even in the moment of 
 excruciating agony he remembered, with a 
 bitter smile, that he and Krishna found that 
 fossil during one of their geological rambles, 
 and carried it uncomplainingly over three 
 miles of heart-breaking undergrowth. 
 
 The injury to his foot proved a boon. It
 
 SOLVING A MYSTERY i55 
 
 reminded him that this particular fossil had 
 been relegated to Krishna's skeleton cabinet 
 or cupboard, which projected into the study 
 and was fitted with a door on each side for the 
 convenience of the student. The door on the 
 laboratory side had been left wide open, and 
 in the darkness Graham had wandered into 
 the cupboard. He closed the door behind him 
 and smiled grimly when he discovered that he 
 had a companion of about his own height — a 
 dumb, fieshless companion, who was standing 
 bolt upright in one corner of the cupboard, 
 with silver wire through his joints. 
 
 Placing his ear against the door that led 
 into the study, he held his breath and 
 listened. Everything was as quiet as the 
 ghastly relic by his side. Gently he tried 
 the door. It was locked ! In his disappoint- 
 ment he barked his knuckles against the 
 ribs of the skeleton. The murky blackness 
 of the place was beginning to tell on his 
 nerves. He groped about for the fossil, and 
 sitting down on it, tried to compose himself. 
 His thoughts were confused, rebellious. He 
 endeavoured to comprehend the full nature 
 of his self-imposed task and failed. First it 
 was a comedy, in which he was playing the 
 role of buffoon — the Hghts down, the mock
 
 156 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 burglary, the skeleton at his side. Now he 
 was paying court to her, holding her in his 
 arms and breathing out his protestations in 
 hot, burning whispers. And then it was 
 drama — heavy, sordid drama, in which her 
 honour was jeopardized. 
 
 He grew irritable. The awful silence of 
 the place weighed down upon him. In his 
 cramped position the heat was stifling. The 
 nauseous, sickening, loathsome odour of 
 musty bones and discarded medical instru- 
 ments filled his nostrils. He was far from 
 being a coward, although she had called him 
 one, but this vigil would have tried the 
 nerves of a mummy. A flicker above his 
 head aroused him. He looked up hastily, and 
 then shrank back with a low cry of horror. 
 Two bright, gleaming eyes were staring at 
 him out of the darkness. He put out his 
 hand to ward off the awful thing, and his 
 fingers touched the skeleton. Surely those 
 gleaming eyeballs were in the sockets of the 
 skull ! 
 
 He felt the perspiration drip, drip, from his 
 face on to his hands, yet he was cold as the 
 dead. He looked again, and — and then he 
 laughed softly at his fears. 
 
 On the top of the door, and within a few
 
 SOLVING A MYSTERY 157 
 
 inches of the skeleton's skull, were two ventila- 
 tion holes, no larger than a good-sized marble. 
 Someone had entered the study, and it was the 
 light from their lamp that had streamed 
 through the holes and alarmed the watcher. 
 He could hear three distinct voices. By 
 standing on the fossil it was possible to peer 
 through the holes.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT CONFERENCE 
 
 SEATED at the table in the centre of the 
 room were Krishna, Count Cimea, and 
 two Hindus — judging by the white-ash caste- 
 mark on their foreheads — ^whom Graham did 
 not remember to have seen before. Like 
 Krishna, they were in European clothes, and 
 wore them with an ease and freedom that 
 spoke of Western travel. Both had the 
 appearance of intellectual men, and when 
 they opened their lips, which was seldom, 
 their English was perfect in every sense. 
 
 Krishna was in deep black, and his dark 
 hair had been brushed carefully back from 
 his high, protruding forehead. When he lay 
 back in his chair, resting his chin on his 
 delicate hands, the oil-lamp lighting up his 
 features, he seemed to Graham to be lost in 
 a profound study of his guests. 
 
 The Count was speaking, and in so low a 
 tone that his words were almost inaudible to 
 the listening Graham. The Hindus were 
 leaning forward, but there was nothing in 
 their countenances to betray their thoughts. 
 
 " What is our strength ? " the Count was 
 saying. " Has it not been tested ? W^hat 
 are our aims ? Need you ask ? Out of the 
 
 158
 
 THE MIDNIGHT CONFERENCE 159 
 
 grave of Feudalism a new power has risen — 
 a people fired with an ambition that knows 
 no bounds." 
 
 " A country in its infancy." The comment 
 was Krishna's, the voice cold and calculating. 
 
 The Count frowned. 
 
 " We do not deny it ; but can the blood of 
 the old and effete be compared with that of 
 strong, healthy youth ? " 
 
 " Rash, headstrong youth, without experi- 
 ence to guide it." 
 
 " We have the experience of the old," the 
 Count retorted. " The West has taunted us 
 with being imitators. Perhaps the taunt is 
 merited. To imitate is to admit one's infe- 
 riority ; to imitate with discrimination is 
 sometimes genius. What secret of the West 
 remains to-day a mystery to the East ? The 
 predominance of the West to-day is due, not 
 to a higher standard of intelligence or civiliza- 
 tion, nor to the strength they could muster 
 in defence or attack. It is due to the white- 
 ness of their skins, and the respect to that 
 whiteness enforced by their fighting ancestors. 
 Young ! Yes, we may be young, but we have 
 been suckled by the children of the world's 
 sages, and we know our strength to an 
 ounce."
 
 i6o THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " And, like the serpent of old, you would 
 sting the breast that suckled you ? " 
 
 The Count glanced appealingly at the 
 Hindus, but they might have been graven 
 images. Clearly they were content to abide 
 by the word of Krishna. Whatever impres- 
 sion the Count's words had created on their 
 minds, they took care not to show it. 
 
 " The progress and educational advance- 
 ment of the masses," the Count went on, 
 " must always be a nation's right to lead. 
 The rise of one nation and the submerging 
 of another is a natural evolution, as it was 
 before, and has been since the rise and fall 
 of the Roman Empire." 
 
 " And India ? " said Krishna impatiently. 
 " What bond of sympathy exists between you 
 and us ? What greater hopes of emancipation 
 can you hold out ? " 
 
 " The sympathy of the East to the 
 East," replied the Count. " Can I say 
 more ? " 
 
 " Disinterested sympathy is an anomaly," 
 said Krishna sharply. " What benefits are 
 likely to accrue to the three hundred millions 
 of this country who are crying out for protec- 
 tion from the oppression of Europe — what 
 benefits under a new Government, in return
 
 THE MIDNIGHT CONFERENCE i6i 
 
 for the actual and the undeveloped riches of 
 this, our India ? " 
 
 " What benefits ? " the Count echoed. 
 " Sympathy, that at present you only dream 
 of ; the utter extinction of those degrading, 
 demoralizing racial prejudices, that have 
 cowed the spirit of your people and made 
 them as base-born slaves ; the reconstitu- 
 tion of the Administration with the best 
 brains of your people, mingled with the best 
 of ours, at the head of affairs ; the " 
 
 He stopped to mark the effect of his speech 
 on his hearers. Still stolid as the wooden 
 gods of their temples sat the Hindus. 
 
 "Go on," said Krishna in a dispassionate 
 voice. 
 
 " We should abohsh the iniquitous taxes 
 under which your toiling masses now groan. 
 The encouragement of your own industries 
 would make this possible, also a substantial 
 reduction of expenditure on military enter- 
 prises, and a weeding out of the drones who 
 are fattening on pensions which they do not 
 deserve. Mass education on educational lines 
 — think of it ! A free voice in the administra- 
 tion of the country ! In short, all the 
 privileges of a free-born citizen for every 
 native."
 
 i62 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 With a flourish the Count ceased speaking, 
 and Graham saw Krishna's brow contract and 
 his eyes gleam. 
 
 " Do you come to us as an emissary of your 
 Government ? " 
 
 The Count hesitated. There was a terrible 
 warning in those piercing eyes. 
 
 " I do not come as a member of the Cabinet, 
 if that is what you mean," he said ; " but in 
 my country every man is a representative of 
 the Government. Therein lies the secret of 
 our strength." 
 
 " But what promises can you make with 
 any prospect of their being fulfilled ? " 
 
 " I said that I am not a member of the 
 Cabinet, but I stand behind it, and my 
 whispers carry far and sink deep. It is not 
 politic for a Government's advisers to stand 
 boldly out in the fierce light of public contro- 
 versies. Under the cloak of retirement and 
 apparent apathy he can render signal service." 
 
 " You mean that you are a spy ? " 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. " Politeness is 
 a trait worth the cultivating when you enter 
 the arena of international politics." 
 
 " The present rulers of this country," said 
 Krishna icily, " possess one trait that com- 
 mends itself to friend and foe alike. They
 
 THE MIDNIGHT CONFERENCE 163 
 
 do not wait to put on kid gloves when they 
 desire to knock a man down, nor do they sip 
 perfume before speaking their minds. You 
 are a spy ? " 
 
 The Count nodded affirmatively. 
 
 " Now we understand each other," said 
 Krishna. " There is no disgrace in espionage 
 if you have the welfare of your country at 
 heart. Rhandi here is a spy — so is his brother, 
 on the left of him. So am I, for that 
 matter." 
 
 Graham saw a smile of contempt rest for a 
 second on the brown, sallow face of the Count 
 when allusion was made to the Hindus. 
 Evidently it did not escape Krishna. 
 
 " You have brought espionage to a fine art 
 in your country," he observed. 
 
 The Count bowed, and his protruding, gold- 
 filled teeth showed themselves. " Only the 
 admittedly profound intellects are entrusted 
 with the work," he replied pompously. " The 
 boy-spies of the West are one of the institu- 
 tions we did not copy." 
 
 " How long have you been in this 
 country ?" 
 
 " A few months only." 
 
 " You could, if necessary, give us proof of 
 your intellectual fitness ? "
 
 i64 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " I think so." He leaned back and drew 
 in his breath between his teeth with a hissing 
 sound. 
 
 " Your secrets were less safe with the 
 dead," said Krishna encouragingly and with 
 a wave of his hand. 
 
 The Count was silent for a few minutes. 
 " Yes," he said at last, " I can give you 
 proof, and now."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 MICE AND MEN 
 
 THIS is a dangerous game in which we 
 are engaged," the Count continued. 
 " It would be unwise to show lack of confi- 
 dence in each other. I think that I have said 
 enough to con\dnce you that our eyes have 
 long been turned to this country. We are 
 cognizant of the fact that others have watched 
 its development and estimated its potenti- 
 alities with as keen an interest. We believe, 
 however, that if it came to a question of 
 mere choice we should have your support. 
 Unfortunately, it is not likely to be settled 
 so easily. But we, like others, realized long 
 ago that, when the crisis is reached, that 
 Power which can depend on the sympathy 
 of the ruled or misruled — which you please 
 — will be the only Power capable of wrest- 
 ing it from the present holders. Am I right ? " 
 
 " Possibly," said Krishna, a little wearily. 
 " But what other measures have you taken ? 
 Give us some proof that beneath the veneer 
 of friendship and amity which you profess 
 for — for those who have suckled you there 
 is the desire to succour us. Give us proof 
 that this friendship for the West is not real." 
 
 The Count half turned in his chair, and 
 165
 
 i66 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 Graham could scarcely suppress a cry when 
 he saw him bring forth the familiar walking- 
 stick and proceed calmly to unscrew the 
 ferrule. Instinctively Graham glanced at 
 Krishna, and he could have sworn that in 
 the cruel, earnest eyes there flickered for a 
 second the ghost of a smile. 
 
 " This," said the Count impressively, " is 
 more than proof of our friendship." He drew 
 out the sealed roll of foolscap, and, hardly 
 glancing at it, passed it to Krishna, who 
 toyed with it curiously, yet made no attempt 
 to break the seal. 
 
 " You have in your hand complete plans 
 of the most important fortifications of this 
 country," said Count Cimea in a whisper. 
 The Hindus leaned across the table, but 
 Krishna waved them back. 
 
 " May I ask how you secured so precious a 
 trophy ? " he asked quietly. 
 
 " I obtained it last night," he replied, with 
 a smile, " and in the house of a friend of 
 yours." 
 
 " You mean Miss Bressane's residence ? " 
 
 " Exactly, although the document, so far 
 as my knowledge goes, is in no wise con- 
 nected with that charming and most 
 estimable lady."
 
 MICE AND MEN 167 
 
 A wave of relief swept over Graham. 
 
 " Before my arrival in India," the Count 
 went on, " I had heard of the gentleman who 
 is known to you and his friends as Major 
 Skew. Also I knew — so perfect and minute 
 is our system of espionage — that Skew is the 
 nom de guerre of Monsieur Pericard, once 
 perhaps the cleverest and most astute officer 
 attached to the French Secret Intelligence 
 Department, but now in the pay of another 
 European government. Need I specify which 
 one ? Pericard is believed to be the greatest 
 expert in Europe on military defence works. 
 Well, I made the acquaintance of the good 
 man, or, rather, he made mine, and I found 
 him to be one of the most delightful of com- 
 panions, but shockingly communicative over 
 a glass of his beloved wine. He and Miss 
 Bressane are close friends " — he glanced at 
 Krishna, and the leer on his face made 
 Graham's blood tingle — " I may say very 
 close friends ; but we know what these 
 European officers are, eh ? " 
 
 " We are not concerned with the morals of 
 Monsieur Pericard," said Krishna icily. 
 
 Count Cimea winced and pulled himself 
 together. He was beginning to understand 
 his man. " During our conversation," he
 
 i68 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 continued, " which, needless to say, turned on 
 defence works, he intimated that in that very 
 house were the fruits of three years' diUgent 
 search. Now, I had heard of the Major's — er 
 —friendship, shall we call it ? — for our 
 hostess of that evening, and my subordinates, 
 who had been entrusted with the work of 
 keeping an eye on the man, had often followed 
 him to the bungalow. An unsuspected deposi- 
 tory is a useful thing to a Secret Service officer. 
 The confidence he placed in me was astonish- 
 ing, even to me. A man's eyes invariably 
 travel with his thoughts, and when he dropped 
 the hint to which I have alluded — ^well, I 
 reaped the fruits of the Major's three years' 
 work. All is fair in love and war, my friends 
 — a good motto, and one which the East 
 deemed worthy of adoption from the West." 
 
 " And when the Major discovers his loss," 
 said Krishna sceptically, " it will be com- 
 paratively easy to frustrate the designs of 
 the thief. An anonymous letter to the Com- 
 mander-in-Chief would be sufficient to cause 
 the reconstruction of every fort. Have you 
 thought of that contingency ? " 
 
 " Thoroughness in all we undertake has 
 made us what we are to-day," the Count 
 replied. " In borrowing Pericard's original
 
 MICE AND MEN 169 
 
 drawings I left him a substitute. You will 
 find in that roll of foolscap which you hold 
 in your hand no fewer than ten plans. 
 Pericard, also, will find ten in his, and a 
 cursory glance will satisfy him that his 
 secret is intact. For the sake of the country 
 he serves, I trust they will not place too much 
 reliance on Pericard's plans." 
 
 " Would you have any difficulty in identify- 
 ing the original if the two were placed in your 
 hands ? " 
 
 " Not the slightest," replied the Count con- 
 fidently. " You will observe that the crest on 
 the grey seal of that roll is a broken stiletto — 
 very faint, I admit. It was impossible in the 
 time at my disposal to leave Pericard a replica. 
 My own signet-ring — a snake's head — was 
 pressed into service." 
 
 The Count lighted a cigarette, and, with 
 a smile of triumph, leaned back in his chair 
 and awaited Krishna's comment on the plans. 
 " Well," he exclaimed presently, " why don't 
 you examine them ? " 
 
 " Because," said Krishna drily, " they are 
 as worthless as the seal — a snake's head! " 
 And he tossed the roll across the table. The 
 Count sprang to his feet, glanced at the seal, 
 and, with a groan, collapsed in his chair.
 
 170 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " My dear Count " — Krishna was smiling 
 ironically — " the eyes, as you say, invariably 
 travel with the thoughts — a fact you should 
 bear in mind when next you sit at the table 
 of a clever woman." 
 
 " You mean " the Count gasped. 
 
 " I mean that the wits of the lady who 
 entertained us last night are worth yours and 
 Pericard's together. But do not take your 
 failure to heart. You are not the first man 
 to be outwitted by a woman. Happily, the 
 original from which you made your misleading 
 copy is safe in my hands. Perhaps you would 
 like to examine it." 
 
 And, taking from his pocket another roll, 
 he handed it to the astonished Count. 
 
 The man's face was a study in amazement 
 and chagrin. 
 
 " We appreciate the bond of sympathy 
 which exists between your people and ours," 
 Krishna went on caustically, " and we shall 
 welcome your undoubted intellectuality, which 
 must of necessity arouse the masses of this 
 country from their deplorable lethargy. At 
 the same time, we are not prepared to tolerate 
 condescension. That is one of our funda- 
 mental grievances at the present time. 
 Emancipation must commence with due
 
 MICE AND MEN 171 
 
 recognition of the capabilities of our leaders. 
 Unless that is vouchsafed, we shall repudiate 
 you and seek to work out our own salvation." 
 
 " Which will be impossible," said the Count 
 laconically. " Left to yourselves, this country 
 would drip blood within a month. No power 
 on earth could arrest the inevitable carnage 
 when once started." 
 
 " That remains to be seen," replied Krishna 
 quietly. " When the feeling of nationally is 
 felt by Hindu and Mohammedan alike, faction- 
 fights will die a natural death." 
 
 " We will not enter into a controversy," 
 said the Count impatiently. " Let us discuss 
 the object of our meeting." 
 
 Krishna bowed gravely. " We await your 
 proposals," he said. 
 
 The Count lowered his voice. " Presuming 
 that — that a certain Power, whose naval and 
 military strength is admittedly very great, 
 decided to strike a blow, not only on your 
 behalf, but for the uplifting of the whole of 
 the East, what assurance could you give that 
 here in India the leaders of thought would 
 tender their allegiance, or at least their 
 sympathies and assistance ? " 
 
 ' ' Rhandi will answer you , ' ' said Krishna ; and 
 the Hindu on his right looked up at the Count.
 
 172 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " During the last twenty years," Rhandi 
 commenced, with fervour, " the work of 
 reformation has developed in an extraordinary 
 degree. The aims and ideals of the leaders of 
 thought have been made known from Bombay 
 on the west to Calcutta on the east, from 
 Allahabad to Madras. Despite the gagging 
 of the native Press, our pamphlets have been 
 disseminated as the wind disseminates the 
 leaves in autumn. Need I say more ? " 
 
 The Count appeared satisfied with the veiled 
 assurance. 
 
 " And your proposals ? " prompted Krishna. 
 
 The reply was almost inaudible to Graham, 
 but he caught the words, " Money . . . 
 sinews . . . war . . . forthcoming ... we 
 shall . . ." 
 
 The remainder of the sentence was a 
 whisper, and the horrified eavesdropper saw 
 Krishna's eyes close and his brow wrinkle, 
 as though he would shut out some terrible 
 apparition. The Count saw the movement, 
 and took it for a sign of weakness and 
 vacillation. 
 
 " Bah ! " He laughed. " Your blood is 
 too thin. Men who play in the game of 
 international politics are not mothered by 
 weaklings."
 
 MICE AND MEN 173 
 
 Krishna's brown fingers gripped the armrests 
 of his chair, and a lurid hght gleamed in his eyes. 
 
 " Nor do they jump hastily at conclusions," 
 he retorted. " You shall judge the quality 
 of our blood and the extent of our aims." 
 With a rapid movement he removed part of 
 his clothing and placed upon the table in front 
 of him the red-hide belt. 
 
 Graham, watching from his observation 
 hole, started violently. Where had he seen 
 that thing before ? And then, as in a dream, 
 his mind went back to that night when he 
 surprised Krishna in his study. He caught 
 only a glimpse of it on that occasion, but 
 he remembered Krishna's agitation and his 
 wild, incoherent words. 
 
 The two Hnidus exchanged meaning 
 glances. The Count, obviously perplexed, 
 stared at the curious-looking thing. 
 
 " Here," said Krishna solemnly, " is the 
 life-work of some of the greatest intellects 
 that India has ever known. They died as 
 agitators, sedition-mongers ; ' martyr ' is 
 written on their graves. One by one they 
 gave up their lives. The last to go was 
 one known to you ; I mean Runga, the fakir." 
 
 The Hindus started and glanced inquiringly 
 at the speaker.
 
 174 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " It is true," he said, and there was a catch 
 in his voice. " I learned it only yesterday. 
 He died of a disease in prison while awaiting 
 trial for sedition." He drew from the folds of 
 the belt one of the palm-leaves. " I will read 
 for you what is written there," he went on, 
 rising and leaning over the shoulder of the 
 Count. " I may tell you that, whatever 
 action you may take, this scheme has been 
 decided on, and will be carried out in its 
 entirety." Then he bent down and whispered 
 rapidly in the other's ear. 
 
 The situation was so tense that Graham 
 could almost hear his heart throbbing. What 
 was the secret of that innocent dried leaf, 
 with its thousands of pin-pricks. As the Count 
 listened, his face blanched and his chest 
 heaved and fell as though moved by turbulent 
 emotion. At last, unable to restrain himself 
 further, he sprang to his feet. 
 
 " That ! that ! " he gasped, and sank 
 quivering in his chair. 
 
 Krishna glanced at him with unconcealed 
 contempt. 
 
 " ' Men who play in the game of inter- 
 national politics are not mothered by weak- 
 lings,' " he quoted. 
 
 For a while not another word was spoken.
 
 MICE AND MEN 175 
 
 Then the Count, pale, but composed, opened 
 his lips. " You would require endless re- 
 sources," he said, in a low, far-away voice, 
 " for every man has his price. It is hardly 
 necessary for me to say that we could not 
 assist you financially — no, not to the extent 
 of a single rupee." 
 
 " We are aware of your deplorable insol- 
 vency," said Krishna quickly ; " who isn't ? 
 Happily, we have our own resources." 
 
 The Count's eyes opened wide in unfeigned 
 
 astonishment. " I was not aware " he 
 
 began, but Krishna cut him short. 
 
 " Few persons are aware of it, but that does 
 not alter the fact that here, in the country, is 
 an available fund amounting, I have reason 
 to believe, to millions of rupees — the garnered 
 stores of several generations who had the good 
 of their country at heart." 
 
 " I can scarcely credit what you say," Count 
 Cimea faltered. Krishna's reply was to lay 
 the second palm-leaf, with its cryptic message 
 before him : 
 
 " For the realization of my dreams and the 
 dreams of my immediate ancestors I bequeath 
 the wealth of three generations. None can 
 estimate its power. Before it men will fall like
 
 176 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 the leaves in time of drought. He who would 
 dream as I and mine have dreamed, let him 
 read. . . . Smallest yet dearest. Watered by 
 heaven. . . . Look west from the throne that 
 faces the east. Beyond the shadow of the deodar 
 at eventide it lies. 
 
 The Hindustani was translated to the 
 Count, who rubbed his eyes and shifted 
 uneasily in his chair. " I am at a loss to 
 understand," he confessed. " The thing is 
 terribly ambiguous." 
 
 " You are beginning to shake my faith in 
 the intellectual standard of your people," said 
 Krishna, with a significant glance at the silent 
 Hindus. 
 
 " The clues are there, of course," retorted 
 the Count petulantly, " but the brain that can 
 interpret them unaided does not belong to 
 this world. The treasure, if treasure there be, 
 might have been buried at the bottom of the 
 ocean with as great a chance of its being 
 discovered. Can you throw any light upon 
 it?" 
 
 " At present, no," said Krishna. " But tell 
 me, Count, have you ever given up your 
 mind seriously to the study of hypnotism and 
 clairvoyance ? "
 
 MICE AND MEN 177 
 
 " Our Admiralty considered the question 
 only recently, and some of our officers are, 
 I believe, devoting much attention and time 
 to it." 
 
 " We in India," said Krishna dryly, 
 " passed the incredulous stage some hundreds 
 of years ago. But our sciences have ever been 
 the ravings of a semi-barbaric race. The 
 blindness of arrogance is a twofold affliction. 
 We have suffered rebuffs in silence, knowing 
 that one day the strength of our knowledge 
 will overwhelm racial scruples. I will give 
 you an instance of that arrogance. Doubtless 
 the name of Sir Walter Broadshaw is familiar 
 to your ears as being the name of the greatest 
 physician in Europe. An ordinary case of 
 hydrophobia was brought into the hospital in 
 which one of our young men of Madras was 
 junior house-surgeon. Sir Walter happened 
 to be in the hospital when the case arrived, 
 and ordered that the usual methods be 
 adopted to lessen the agony of the patient 
 and soothe his dying hours. The junior 
 surgeon asked for and obtained permission 
 to try a remedy of his own — a remedy which, 
 I may tell you, is common enough out here. 
 Ihe patient was discharged, cured, from the 
 hospital two days later. The junior surgeon 
 
 M
 
 178 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 was hounded out of that hospital within a 
 month." 
 
 Krishna stopped to light a cigarette, and 
 the bitterness of his feelings was reflected 
 in the trembling of the burning match in his 
 fingers. 
 
 " And now," he continued, " you shall have 
 ocular proof of ' the inferiority of our intel- 
 lectual standard.* "
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 WILL-POWER 
 
 IT was with considerable trepidation that 
 Graham Dennis watched Krishna rise from 
 his chair and cross the floor. For the moment 
 it seemed that his intention was to enter the 
 laboratory. In that event discovery was 
 inevitable. It was impossible to retreat. 
 He was fully cognizant of the gravity of his 
 position, the previous friendship of Krishna 
 notwithstanding. Did he not hold in his hand 
 the liberty of these four men ? 
 
 Krishna, his head bowed until his chin 
 almost touched his chest, drew nearer, stopped 
 a foot from the door, hesitated, and turning 
 sharply, left the study by a door that Graham 
 knew led into Lakshmi's apartment. The 
 other three sat smoking in silence, and only 
 the Count looked up when Krishna reappeared, 
 accompanied by the daughter of Kuppu- 
 swamy. She appeared to have been aroused 
 from her slumber, as her wealth of black, 
 glistening hair was tumbled about her 
 shoulders, and she held her hand before her 
 great wondering eyes to shield them from 
 the glare of the oil-lamp. Krishna's arms 
 were placed tenderly around her waist, and 
 as he led her forward he stooped and 
 
 179
 
 i8o THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 whispered something in her ear. Immediately 
 she turned her young face to his, and her 
 confidence in his protection was reflected in 
 the long, lingering look of love and devoted- 
 ness. 
 
 " These gentlemen are friends of mine, 
 Lakshmi," he whispered, and there was a 
 sweetness in his voice that none could have 
 reconciled with the bitterness of the man of a 
 moment before. 
 
 " Gentlemen " — he looked up at the others 
 — " this is my foster-sister. There is no need 
 to say more — to gentlemen." He placed a 
 chair for her in such a position that Graham 
 commanded a full view of her dark features. 
 
 " What devil's game is this ? " he muttered 
 to himself. " Surely they are not going to 
 drag that child into their plotting ? " 
 
 Krishna knelt at her knees, and took both 
 her hands in his. 
 
 " Lakshmi," he said, in a deep, penetrating, 
 yet not unkindly, voice, " do you remember 
 the day that Runga, the fakir, brought the 
 message from Mercara ? " 
 
 She opened her lips to speak, then, with a 
 little shake of her head, expressed her failure 
 to understand. 
 
 " Ah yes, I know," he said quickly, recalling
 
 WILL-POWER i8i 
 
 his injunction and divining the reason of her 
 silence ; " but these are my friends and you 
 msiy speak freely." 
 
 " I remember quite well," she answered. 
 
 " And you remember how he startled you 
 when he crept near to you and stared into 
 your eyes as I am doing now ? " 
 
 " Perfectly, Krishna." 
 
 " You were afraid, Lakshmi — afraid of the 
 mists and the long sleep ? " 
 
 She shivered slightly and closed her eyes. 
 
 " Lakshmi " — he drew her face down to his 
 — " you would not be afraid to sleep again if 
 Krishna were by your side, holding your 
 hands as he is doing now ? " 
 
 "Not if Krishna were near me," she 
 whispered back. 
 
 He rose to his feet and reached for the 
 palm-leaf with the cryptic message. In a 
 low monotone, and keeping his eyes fixed 
 upon her face the while, he read the message, 
 and replaced the leaf on the table. With a 
 muttered apology he extinguished the lamp. 
 Graham pressed his ear to the hole in the 
 cabinet-door and listened. For a long time 
 a death-like silence prevailed. Graham 
 looked again, and, dark though it was, he 
 could distinguish the forms of Krishna and
 
 i82 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 the girl. Once the kneehng man turned his 
 head, and a strange pale blue light seemed to 
 be streaming from his eyes. 
 
 " Krishna ! Krishna ! " It was like the 
 plaintive note of a bird calling for its lost 
 mate. 
 
 And deep and resonant came Krishna's 
 voice in answer. 
 
 " Lakshmi ! Lakshmi, I am by your side ! 
 
 Smallest, yet dearest . . . watered by heaven 
 
 . . . look west from the throne that faces the 
 
 east . . . beyond the shadow of the deodar." 
 
 Loud and cold and dispassionate her voice 
 broke through the stillness of the darkened 
 room. 
 
 " A long, low valley, with the hills closing 
 in, and a strange people, who speak a strange 
 tongue. The pilgrims are bathing in the river 
 . . . their faces dark like mine . . . they 
 speak . . . but . . . no, I cannot understand . . . 
 the fort and the memsahibs at ball . . . see, it 
 flies across the boundary wall ... a boy and 
 a man watch ... a white sahib . . . ah, the 
 boy is down . . . the palace of the Rajah . . . 
 ancient . . . ruins . . . see the nulla pambu 
 sleeps in the eaves ... it watches . . . the palace 
 of the Rajah Sin j hi ... I see the name on 
 the tomb . . . beyond . . . beyond ... a short
 
 WILL-POWER 183 
 
 man . . . creeping to the tomb . . . how dark 
 it is ! ... he turns to look at me ... a strange 
 face, not dark nor white ... his hand is on 
 the tomb, and . . . see . . . see . . . the 
 nulla pambu's head ... it strikes . . . 
 Krishna! . . . Krishna!" 
 
 There was a dreadful silence. Graham 
 could hear the deep, laboured breathing of 
 the men in the room. His own nerves were 
 quivering. His very hands were wet with a 
 cold perspiration. Then suddenly the lamp 
 was relighted. He looked through the hole 
 in the door. Krishna had taken Lakshmi in 
 his arms, and was carrying her from the 
 room. Graham saw her face for a second 
 as they passed his hiding-place. Her eyes 
 were closed as in death ; her cheeks were 
 sunken. 
 
 He glanced at the other occupants of the 
 room. The Hindus were huddled together 
 and staring into the face of the Count, whose 
 lips were as white as the roll of foolscap which 
 still lay on the table. Fully ten minutes passed 
 before Krishna returned. He was trembling, 
 and his haggard face was the face of a man 
 who had passed through a terrible ordeal. 
 He was exhausted. When he resumed his 
 seat his head dropped forward on the table.
 
 i84 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 and he remained in that position for some 
 time. At last he looked up at the pallid 
 countenance of Count Cimea. " Are you 
 satisfied ? " he whispered hoarsely. 
 
 " I did not understand," was the faltering 
 reply. 
 
 " It was enough," said Krishna in a distant 
 voice. 
 
 The four proceeded to discuss the plans, but 
 their whispers were so low as to be inaudible 
 to Graham, who had begun to wonder when 
 the conference would draw to a close. Event 
 had followed event with such startling rapidity 
 that not for a moment had he reflected on the 
 outcome so far as he could affect it. He had 
 not the slightest idea what course to pursue 
 when opportunity released him from his 
 suffocating prison. Suddenly Krishna's voice 
 rose above a whisper. His words struck a chill 
 into the heart of Graham. 
 
 " Count," he was saying, " do you carry a 
 revolver ? " Graham saw the slanting eyes 
 glitter as a tiny silver-plated weapon was 
 passed across the table. Following Krishna's 
 gaze, Graham looked across at the shuttered 
 window. Was it a night-breeze that moved 
 it, or 
 
 Quick as lightning and to the great alarm
 
 WILL-POWER 185 
 
 of the other three at the table, Krishna 
 leaped to the shutter with the revolver at 
 the level. 
 
 " Step down, sir," Graham heard him 
 command — " step quickly, or I fire." 
 
 And into the room tumbled the burly form 
 of Major Skew ! 
 
 " Monsieur Pericard may be an excellent 
 spy," said Krishna sarcastically, " but I 
 should advise him to eschew perfume when 
 next he makes his toilet." 
 
 For the first time in his life Graham 
 admired the Major. In a moment of peril the 
 arrogance of the man vanished and he was 
 the cool, imperturbable officer who takes the 
 chances of war with the quiet calm of a phil- 
 osopher. With a revolver at his head and four 
 pairs of eyes, in which rage and desperation 
 commingled, glaring at him, he might from 
 his composure have just stepped into his club. 
 He wiped his moustache with his handker- 
 chief — the aroma of the perfume on the white 
 cambric lingered in Graham's nostrils for years 
 after — dusted the lapels of his coat and, with 
 a quiet smile, remarked : " Gentlemen, it is 
 a damned hot night — n'est-ce pas ? " 
 
 " Monsieur's exertions have tired him," 
 said Krishna, with studied irony ; " perhaps
 
 i86 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 he will take a seat. We will not offend his 
 dignity by searching him. No doubt he will 
 place his weapon, which he carries in the left 
 sleeve of his coat, on the table before him." 
 
 The Major smiled and threw down the 
 weapon. 
 
 " Well ? " he ejaculated, looking from one 
 to another as a prisoner in the dock might 
 look at the jury summoned to try him. 
 
 " You have heard most of our conversa- 
 tion ? " 
 
 Krishna was sitting opposite the French- 
 man, his fingers toying nervously with the 
 Count's revolver. The three others were still 
 on their feet, their glances divided between 
 the two principals in the drama. 
 
 " You may be seated, gentlemen," Krishna 
 said, and there was a ring in his voice that 
 jarred on Graham's ears. " Monsieur Pericard 
 is about to entertain us with an elucidation of 
 his plans." 
 
 Pericard laughed lightly. " Your wit, 
 young man, is even worse than your choice 
 of acquaintances. Whew ! " And he threw 
 a glance of contempt at the Hindus and the 
 Count. " A pretty trio ! " 
 
 Count Cimea's face clouded. He strode 
 toward the Frenchman, but Krishna motioned
 
 WILL-POWER 187 
 
 him to a chair. Pericard half closed his eyes 
 and, with a sneer twisting his mouth, 
 surveyed the little squat figure. Then he 
 turned again to meet Krishna's steady 
 gaze. 
 
 " Well ? " he jeered. " I await your 
 pleasure." 
 
 Krishna's bright eyes streamed anger, but 
 he recovered himself almost immediately. 
 
 " You seen impatient to die," he said 
 coldly, adding, with a touch of unconscious 
 admiration in his voice : "At least, cowardice 
 is not one of your failings." 
 
 With mock politeness Pericard bowed his 
 acknowledgment of the compliment. 
 
 " There is no time to waste in useless 
 talk," whispered Count Cimea, glancing 
 through the half-closed shutters at the sky, 
 which was already paling before an early 
 dawn. 
 
 Krishna shrugged his shoulders and, with 
 a shade of annoyance, replied : " He is in 
 your hands as much as in mine." 
 
 " And cold-blooded murder in the cir- 
 cumstances," chimed in Pericard, " would 
 be an unpardonable indiscretion and a 
 terrible reflection on such ' intellectuality.' 
 Eh?"
 
 i88 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 Krishna put a period to the banter by 
 suddenly turning down the light until it was 
 a mere speck. 
 
 " Monsieur Pericard " — the voice made 
 Graham shiver : it was the deep, solemn 
 resonance of half an hour before, when 
 Lakshmi was sitting where the Frenchman 
 was sitting now — " Monsieur Pericard, we 
 have no time for idle jest. Doubtless you 
 realize the risks you have run in stealing upon 
 us in the way you have ? " 
 
 " Y-e-s ! " It was the weak, faltering 
 admission of the craven. 
 
 Through the semi-darkness Graham could 
 discern the ungainly form of Pericard, shrink- 
 ing rather than sitting in front of the slender, 
 supple form of his questioner. 
 
 " You realize the danger your liberty would 
 mean to four men who have the uplifting of 
 a nation at heart ? " 
 
 " I . . . do." 
 
 The dreary intonation struck fear into the 
 heart of the listener without. 
 
 " You are a spy, monsieur, serving a 
 country which is not your own." 
 
 " That is true . . . alas ! " 
 
 " But you have loved your own country 
 and once you would have died for it ? "
 
 WILL-POWER 189 
 
 " Would . . . have died . . . for . . . it," 
 came the answer as from the clouds. 
 
 " And therefore you can sympathize with 
 the aims of other men who love their 
 country ? " 
 
 " I . . . can . . . sympathize." 
 
 " Have I your sympathy now, monsieur ? " 
 Graham could see Krishna creeping nearer 
 his victim. In his left hand he held the 
 Frenchman's revolver ; with his right he 
 lightly touched the temples of the helpless, 
 hypnotized man. 
 
 " You . . . have . . . my . . . sympathy ! " 
 The words came drip, drip, like the splashing 
 of ice-cold water on a stone floor. 
 
 " Then listen to my voice. It is better to 
 die by one's own hand than to be brutally 
 assassinated by desperate men. You know 
 the mangrove avenue on the right of Agra 
 Nook ? " 
 
 " I . . . know . . . the . . . avenue." 
 
 " You could walk there in half an hour. 
 You will go at once." 
 
 " I . . . will go . . . at . . . once." 
 
 " Hold this revolver, monsieur." He took 
 the unconscious man by the hand and pulled 
 him to his feet. They crossed the floor 
 together. Graham could hear the laboured
 
 190 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 breathing of Krishna as the two shuffled past 
 his hiding-place. They passed through the 
 doorway and stumbled down the stairs. 
 Graham heard the front door of the bungalow 
 opened and slow, faltering steps die away in 
 the distance. When Krishna returned to the 
 others he was in the same exhausted condition 
 as when he returned after conducting Lak- 
 shmi to her room. His thin lips were com- 
 pressed, his cheeks sunken, and from his 
 cavernous eyes poured again the pale blue 
 light. He staggered like one newly recovered 
 from stupor, but those other silent three 
 made no attempt to come to his aid. For 
 half an hour he sat with his face buried in his 
 hands, then, with a cry in which fear and 
 exultation were strangely mixed, he threw 
 himself back in his chair and laughed and 
 cried hysterically. One of the Hindus re- 
 lighted the lamp and went over to him 
 quest ioningly. 
 
 " It is well," he muttered feebly. " My 
 brain rocks ; I am tired. Let us separate. 
 Count, forgive me. Rhandi will communicate 
 with you when the time is ripe." He pointed 
 to the open door. His head fell forward on 
 the table again, and he appeared to sink 
 immediately into a profound sleep.
 
 WILL-POWER 191 
 
 Silently the others withdrew. Graham 
 heard them walking down the garden path, 
 and he was puzzling his brains to find some 
 means of escape, when the figure at the table 
 leaped to its feet, walked quickly to the open 
 window, listened, and returned — returned to 
 the door of the cupboard, and, in a voice that 
 seemed to come from the grave, exclaimed : 
 
 " You may come out now, Graham : they 
 have gone ! "
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE WARNING 
 
 HIS face livid, his limbs cramped, and a 
 cold sweat standing out on his fore- 
 head, Graham Dennis crawled from the 
 cupboard. 
 
 " God ! " he gasped, shading his eyes 
 from the light of the lamp with a hand that 
 shook like a leaf, " what are you — man or 
 devil ? " 
 
 Krishna smiled and proceeded calmly to 
 roll a cigarette. 
 
 " I confess I am at a loss to know myself," 
 he said, showing his white, gleaming teeth, 
 " since everyone seems imbued with the 
 desire to intrude on my privacy and spy upon 
 my movements." 
 
 " Your movements ! " Graham was staring 
 at him with a horrified expression on his face. 
 " The movements of a devil must needs be 
 watched ! " 
 
 Another soft, careless laugh. 
 
 " Really, my dear Graham, you are as 
 imaginative as the rest of your countrymen. 
 But I am awaiting an explanation of this 
 unwarrantable imposition on my friend- 
 ship." 
 
 " Friendship ! For Heaven's sake, don't 
 X92
 
 THE WARNING 193 
 
 breathe the word — don't remind me that I 
 descended from the dignity of a European 
 and sacrificed the good opinion of my own 
 people in order to befriend a — a damned 
 nigger, who is more hateful and treacherous 
 than a toad." 
 
 Krishna recoiled at the word " nigger " and 
 raised a clenched hand ; but Graham, whose 
 nerves had been restrung by anger, continued 
 his wild vituperation. 
 
 He was a big-framed man, with more than 
 the average strength, despite the enervating 
 climate. It was within his power to crush the 
 slender, almost fragile, form before him, as he 
 might have crushed a venomous toad in his 
 path. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes, 
 and for a second the courage of the other man 
 seemed to desert him. But it was only for a 
 second. The old smile of confidence returned. 
 He blew a cloud of smoke to the ceiling, and 
 stepping back to his chair, seated himself and 
 lazily crossed his legs. 
 
 " Won't you er — er — sit down ? " he 
 drawled pleasantly. " You must be fatigued 
 after your long confinement. I feel quite 
 callous for having allowed you to be so incon- 
 siderate of your health." 
 
 " You pretend that you — you knew."
 
 194 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 Astonishment was placing its foot on 
 Graham's passion. 
 
 " I never pretend," was the quiet answer. 
 " Luckily for you, I was aware of your 
 presence in that cabinet, and was able, con- 
 sequently, to keep the attention of the others 
 diverted. They owe you no debt." 
 
 " And do you think that an Englishman 
 would fear four — four " 
 
 " Pray do not allow the arrogance of your 
 race to overcome your discretion," said 
 Krishna sharply. " We have a serious 
 problem before us, and the sooner we com- 
 mence to work out a solution the better 
 for us." 
 
 " There is no problem to my mind," retorted 
 Graham, ignoring the chair which the other 
 pushed towards him. " Whatever friendship 
 existed between us before to-night has gone, 
 and can never be recalled. Before to-morrow 
 night I " 
 
 " Well, what will you have done ? " 
 
 " What any Englishman would do if he had 
 a spark of loyalty in him. Friendship ! Why, 
 I would sacrifice ten thousand such as you." 
 
 " You are boastful." The cynical tone cut 
 like a lash, and, with a cry of rage, Graham 
 leaped at the smiling face.
 
 THE WARNING 195 
 
 " Boastful, boastful, am I, you black 
 reptile ! " 
 
 " Sit down ! " It was like the clink of steel 
 on steel. The smiling face had changed in a 
 flash. Two fierce, wild lights were shining out 
 from a dark, scowling face. Graham stopped 
 dead with his right arm upraised to strike. 
 
 " Don't try your devil's tricks on me," he 
 cried, but there was no defiance in his voice, 
 and he retreated with his purpose unfulfilled. 
 
 " If we understand each other now, it will 
 save time and — and unpleasantness," said 
 Krishna, in the stern tones of a barrister 
 addressing a stubborn witness. " Your object 
 in coming here was to obtain possession of 
 those fortification plans about which you 
 have heard so much to-night while playing 
 the eavesdropper." 
 
 Graham's face flushed at the taunt. 
 
 " Oh, you will make an excellent eaves- 
 dropper in time," Krishna laughed mockingly. 
 " Your performance to-night was a distinct 
 improvement on your Agra Nook feat." 
 
 The man's omniscience was beginning to 
 shake the other's confidence in himself. 
 
 " If I remember rightly," Krishna went on, 
 " it was your inability to control your surprise 
 that betrayed you on the last occasion ? "
 
 196 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 The feigned seriousness was ludicrous ? 
 " To-night you were nearer your quarry, and 
 this time your partiahty for a pecuhar cigar- 
 ette played you false. Russian, I think you 
 said they were, and I remember your telling 
 me that you had them specially imported 
 for your consumption. The aroma lingers, 
 Graham, and detail is an essential study in 
 the education of a spy. Now, perhaps, you 
 will tell me what you would have done with 
 those plans had you been successful in — in 
 stealing them. Yes, stealing is the word." 
 
 " And a word that is pretty familiar to you 
 and your associates," sneered Graham. 
 
 " None of us is perfect, and we are all of us 
 very susceptible and human where a woman 
 is concerned." 
 
 " Breathe her name, defile it by so much as 
 a syllable, and, by heavens, I'll beat the life 
 out of you ! " Graham was towering over 
 him, his whole frame rocked by passion. 
 
 " Your excitement dulls your comprehen- 
 sion," said the imperturbable Krishna. " It 
 is because I am desirous that she shall escape 
 defilement, and, perhaps, because of the 
 friendliness you once bore me, that I would 
 bring you to reason, to a serious consideration 
 of the present situation, instead of studying
 
 THE WARNING 197 
 
 my own safety and that of tens of thousands 
 of others by silencing you once and for all." 
 
 " Oh, that would be easier than you 
 imagine," he said sharply, as Graham's 
 mouth turned in contempt. " I was not 
 influenced by any of those finer feelings in 
 the case of Major Skew, or, as we may now 
 refer to him, Monsieur Pericard." 
 
 Perhaps he divined what was passing in 
 Graham's mind, tor he lowered his voice 
 until it was no more than a whisper : " The 
 Pericard danger is a danger no longer. You 
 ought to feel grateful for the removal of so 
 formidable a rival." 
 
 A sickening, sinking feeling came over 
 Graham. " God, man ! " he gasped, " are you 
 the incarnation of the devil himself ? " 
 
 " You have already asked that question," 
 Krishna repUed. " Unless you slept in your 
 hiding-place — Englishmen are dreadfully 
 somnolent — you must have heard our little 
 discussion on one or two of the higher sciences." 
 
 An oath broke from Graham's lips. " If 
 anything has happened to that man, if he 
 has fallen a victim to the treachery of one of 
 your heathenish associates, spy though he 
 was, it will mean something more than 
 transportation for you."
 
 igS THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " If I know anything of your Penal Code," 
 was the reply, " suicide is a crime that is 
 recorded against the person who attempts or 
 commits it. H it came to a question of testi- 
 mony, why, you yourself, Graham, could be 
 called as a witness in my defence." 
 
 " Suicide ! " Graham reeled and caught 
 at a chair for support. 
 
 " You are beginning to understand the 
 position, I see. I thought you would. Now, 
 to revert to an early question of mine, what 
 are your intentions, assuming that you leave 
 this house ? " 
 
 Graham was on his feet again, and a hoarse 
 laugh burst from his lips. " Assuming that I 
 leave this house ! " he echoed ; but the look 
 on the face of Krishna froze the words on his 
 lips. He felt his way to the chair, as though 
 seized with sudden faintness. 
 
 " Are you going to answer my question ? " 
 
 " I have done so already," he replied 
 sullenly. 
 
 " I expected that answer. Imbued with a 
 deep sense of loyalty, you will approach the 
 military authorities and seek to incriminate 
 me and the three men you saw here to-night. 
 The result, I fear, will surprise you. If an 
 arrest is made, the culprit will be a woman ! "
 
 THE WARNING 199 
 
 " A woman ! Great heavens ! What do 
 you mean ? " 
 
 " That undeniable proof will be forthcoming 
 that the lady you know as Miss Charlotte 
 Bressane is a spy, and that she and Monsieur 
 Pericard were equally responsible for the 
 procuring of the plans of ten of the most 
 important defence works in this country. 
 Now, my dear Graham, do you fully compre- 
 hend the situation ? " 
 
 The words were as incisive as a knife-thrust. 
 Graham's face was ashen ; his breath came in 
 quick, painful jerks. " You fiend ! " he 
 gasped. " You inhuman devil ! To save your 
 own miserable skin, you would sacrifice a 
 woman — a woman as good and as pure as 
 one of God's angels, despite the lying insinua- 
 tions of the miscreant with whom you are 
 plotting." 
 
 Then a strange thing happened. Krishna's 
 eyes were ablaze with a new fire. It seemed 
 to leap in hungry jets from his very soul. At 
 Graham's words he had drawn himself up to 
 his full height ; his thin, long hands were 
 pressed to his temples, and the lines of his 
 face were working convulsively. 
 
 " Injure her ! " he cried ; " injure her ! " 
 It was the wailing lament of a contrite man.
 
 200 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " I would rather renounce my gods." He 
 reeled against the shuttered window, and his 
 weight forced it open. The first red streak 
 of dawn splashed the grey sky, and he 
 stretched out his arms appealingly to it. 
 " Injure her ! " he moaned, and his body 
 swayed in the pale light of the morning that 
 enwrapped it. He seemed unconscious of 
 Graham's presence — seemed obsessed with 
 anguish that could not be assuaged. The 
 first light breeze of day tossed the black hair 
 from his high, protruding forehead, and 
 revealed more clearly the frenzied working of 
 the facial muscles. 
 
 Dumb, motionless, stupefied, Graham could 
 only stand and watch — fascinated, transfixed 
 by that weird, unnatural figure in black. Now 
 it had dropped on its knees, the arms upraised 
 in an attitude of supplication. 
 
 " The eyes of the dead will be upon thee ! " 
 
 He breathed the words in a terror-stricken 
 whisper. 
 
 " O father, the burden is too great ! Let 
 me live as other men. Help me, help me, 
 Graham ! Give her to me. Her ! Her ! . . . 
 Oh, the fire . . . the burning, hateful fire 
 . . . scorching . . . parching me ! . . . Help 
 me, Graham . . . help me ! "
 
 THE WARNING 201 
 
 And with the long-drawn-out wail of an 
 animal wounded unto death, he spun round, 
 lunged forward, and fell with a crash at 
 Graham's feet. It had all happened so 
 quickly and without warning that Dennis 
 was utterly incapable of doing more than 
 raise his voice in alarm. His brain was in a 
 wild kaleidoscopic whirl. His vision was 
 blurred by a thousand extravagant fancies. 
 He staggered to the door. He wanted air — 
 fresh, wholesome air — to suck down deep 
 into his lungs and inflate his aching chest, 
 on which the weight of a mountain seemed to 
 be resting. He was conscious of the pattering 
 of slippered feet along the balcony of the 
 bungalow, of the decrepit form of Kuppu- 
 swamy, clad in his dhoti, bending over the 
 dark, prostrate figure on the floor. And he 
 heard, though it came as a wind-whisper 
 singing and sighing from the distance : " The 
 doctor, Lakshmi . . . the brain." Then he 
 reached the door, threw it wide open, and ran. 
 
 He seemed to have been running for hours. 
 The sun was beating straight down on his un- 
 protected head. And yet he was cold — dead 
 cold. He felt he must keep on, on, on, or he 
 would never reach his destination. And what
 
 202 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 his destination was he could not for the life of 
 him have said. He headed away from the 
 city like a fugitive hunted by the hounds. 
 He plunged into every scrub and plantation 
 that would hide him from the curious, tore 
 through copse and undergrowth, heedless of 
 bleeding hands and tattered clothes. Ryots in 
 their rice-paddies looked up and jeered. Only 
 another white sahib in his cups ! Still on he 
 pressed, until away in the distance Agra Nook 
 appeared as a tiny white speck on a brown 
 hill-side. And as he saw it he cried and 
 whined, like a hound that has struck the trail 
 afresh. Blood streamed down his face and 
 almost blinded him ; blood squelched from 
 the toes of his broken boots ; but he kept 
 on with a strength that was not his own. He 
 reached the mangrove avenue. The house lay 
 beyond, fifty yards or so, and again he whined, 
 and spat out the blood that had trickled in at 
 the corners of his open mouth. And then he 
 stumbled, and fell with a curse across a body 
 lying in his path. He laughed with the glee 
 of a child that has found the long-lost toy. 
 And he dragged himself on his knees to the 
 face of the Thing, and brushed the wet hair 
 back from the cold forehead ; laughed as he 
 held his fingers up before his bloodshot eyes
 
 THE WARNING 203 
 
 and watched the red drops gather and fall 
 from the tips — laughed because he knew 
 whose body it was ; laughed because his 
 brain was tottering on the verge of insanity. 
 And of a sudden a new strength came to 
 him, like a fitful breeze on a dead calm 
 Eastern sea. He felt for the hand of the 
 cold Thing lying there, and stroked the 
 barrel of the Service revolver. From that his 
 fingers travelled to the temple, and groped 
 and groped among the bloody hair until they 
 found the hole through which the life-blood 
 had oozed. Then, with hands that dripped 
 red, he turned the body over and clutched 
 at the left hand, that had been doubled up 
 underneath in the fall. With the eagerness 
 of a ravenous beast he fastened on the blood- 
 smeared envelope, and steadied his brain for 
 a second that he might read : 
 
 " Deliver to my sister, Charlotte Bressane, 
 Agra Nook." 
 
 His sister ! He shrieked the words, and 
 then, before he knew what he had done, the 
 envelope was opened and a roll of thin rice- 
 paper was crinkling in his hands. Ten sheets 
 in all. He actually counted them, played 
 with them, smeared them with his red fingers.
 
 204 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 and then he read the note that was pinned on 
 the last foHo : 
 
 " Convey to the Minister for War without 
 delay, and acquaint with details of plan and 
 theft which occurred as he predicted. Dummy 
 safely in hands of native agitators who are 
 working in collusion with Neon, — F. P." 
 
 And so he had outwitted them, after all ! 
 They had taken the bait that he had laid with 
 so much cunning. Including the Count's, 
 there were three sets of plans of the forts in 
 existence. Three ! No, only two : for, with 
 the ferocity of a beast, Graham was tearing 
 to pieces the only valuable set. And his work 
 done, his frenzy past, he sank down by the 
 side of the dead in blissful unconsciousness.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 A woman's vigil 
 
 SHE was alone with her dead ! 
 They had been found together, Graham 
 Dennis and Pericard, and the two privates of 
 the 53rd Foot who came upon the two had 
 told a strange story. Pericard's dead fingers 
 still clutched his revolver, but it was obvious 
 even to the lay minds of the soldiers that the 
 wound in the temple was self-inflicted. The 
 hair in the immediate vicinity of the wound 
 was scorched and blackened by the powder. 
 The other man, when aroused from his death- 
 like sleep, had laughed in their faces and 
 babbled of forts and blood-red eyes that were 
 following him everywhere. And he had crept 
 to the side of the dead man, crying : " Her 
 brother — Charlotte Bressane's brother ! " But 
 when they spoke to him and attempted 
 to question him, his vacant eyes reflected 
 the blankness of his mind. They brought 
 the dead to Agra Nook, advised by a pass- 
 ing rickshaw-boy, who with inexplicable 
 intelligence carried in his head an unwritten 
 directory of the city. Graham had been taken 
 home, and, while the doctors never doubted 
 the main issue, they feared for his reason. 
 Many and extravagant were the conjectures, 
 205
 
 2o6 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 but when it was learned that Miss Bressane 
 had admitted the relationship babbled of by 
 the stricken Graham, they were narrowed 
 down to this : Graham, who was known to be 
 infatuated of Miss Bressane, had met the 
 Major on his way to Agra Nook. Jealousy 
 had suggested only one reason why the man 
 should be visiting the bungalow at that time 
 of night, and angry words had been followed 
 by blows. The Major, being the stronger of 
 the two, had stunned Graham, and, in a 
 moment of mad fear that he had killed him, 
 had drawn his revolver upon himself. But 
 why had this man and this woman hidden 
 their relationship ? The question was the 
 remnant of a mystery left the tea-table 
 gossips. 
 
 And she was alone with her dead. 
 
 They had tendered their condolences, and 
 she had thanked them. Their pity, no matter 
 how insincere, had lightened the blow. They 
 had gone away wondering. It was difficult to 
 understand her brave, determined smile in 
 the face of overwhelming grief. Weakness, 
 they had been taught, was always a woman's 
 greatest strength. 
 
 The sunshine crept through the interstices 
 of the window-screens and touched his dead
 
 A WOMAN'S VIGIL 207 
 
 face. She was holding a hfeless hand and 
 watching with fearless eyes. None could say 
 how great her grief. She seemed determined 
 that no one should fathom her feelings. Their 
 sympathy might have loosened her tongue. 
 The house " boys " moved about with quiet 
 tread, their eyes wide open and terror- 
 stricken. Their natural fear in the presence 
 of death was secondary to the awe which her 
 white face inspired. She had sat there for 
 hours, when the head " boy " whispered from 
 the doorway that another mourner had called. 
 She merely inclined her head and turned her 
 eyes again upon her clay. Nor did she move 
 when the soft pad of bare feet and the gentle 
 rustle of native silk broke in upon her silent 
 grief ; only when a small dark hand was 
 placed tremblingly in hers did she raise her 
 eyes and gaze in wonder at the fragile figure 
 at her knees. 
 
 " The white memsahib sorrows. Can 
 Lakshmi share her grief ? " It was like the 
 soft tolling of a mellow temple bell, the sigh 
 of a summer wind in the leaves of a sleeping 
 palm. 
 
 " Who are you, child ? " she asked. 
 
 " Lakshmi, memsahib, the daughter of 
 Kuppuswamy, the vakil. We know of you
 
 2o8 THE CHOSEN CF THE GODS 
 
 through our Krishna, and when we heard of 
 your sorrow my father sent me to sorrow 
 with you, if — if my colour does not matter." 
 
 The woman lowered her white face until her 
 lips touched the soft dark brow. 
 
 " We have a grief, also," Lakshmi said, 
 " but not so deep as . . . yours ... as 
 yours." She had risen from her knees and 
 was peering, fearfully, over the side of the 
 coffin. " O — h ! " She started back with a 
 low cry of surprise. "He . . . he" — she 
 was pointing at the dead face — " he was 
 your " 
 
 " My brother, child. Why do you start so ? 
 Are you afraid of the dead ? " 
 
 " Afraid of the dead ? No ; but he — he 
 knew our Krishna. He came last night. I 
 saw him through the panel — he and the short 
 sahib with the narrow eyes, and the two 
 Hindus." 
 
 " Yes, Lakshmi ; go on." 
 
 Charlotte's voice and eyes betrayed her 
 agitation, and Lakshmi, with native caution, 
 shook her head. 
 
 " That is all," she said quickly. " They 
 talked long, and it was nearly dawn when 
 memsahib's brother left." 
 
 " Did he go alone, Lakshmi ? "
 
 A WOMAN'S VIGIL 209 
 
 " Yes, alone," she answered, the look 
 of perplexity deepening on the woman's 
 face. 
 
 " And now Krishna has gone, memsahib. 
 We know not where, and we are in sorrow, 
 as you are." 
 
 " When did he go ? " 
 
 She seemed to be nearing a solution of the 
 mj'stery of the avenue. 
 
 " Some hours after the white sahib — many 
 hours. We found him with his friend, Dennis 
 sahib. You know him ? He loves you. I 
 have heard Krishna say so in his sleep. We 
 found him on the floor with the ^^Tinkles of 
 pain on his face. And Dennis sahib was mad 
 with terror. ]\Iy father carried Krishna to 
 his room, and I sat by his side, as you sit by 
 the side of your dead. And when he awoke 
 he called for water — he said his brain was 
 burning — and when I returned \\'ith it he had 
 gone." 
 
 " Gone, Lakshmi ? " 
 
 She nodded her head, and two big scalding 
 tears splashed down from her bro\vn cheeks on 
 to Charlotte's hand. 
 
 " But he will return, child ? " 
 " No," she said slowly ; "I don't 
 think that he \\ill ever return, for Krishna
 
 210 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 is not as he used to be. He loves a white 
 memsahib ! " 
 
 " A white woman ! " 
 
 Charlotte caught the girl's hand. 
 
 " And you, Lakshmi — you " 
 
 " We are betrothed," she said simply ; and 
 a great glad light illumined her face, to be 
 succeeded a moment later by intense sadness. 
 " But he loves a white memsahib," she 
 repeated, " and that can never be." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 It was an idle question, for Charlotte's 
 thoughts had gone off at a tangent. She was 
 wondering what had happened at Kuppu- 
 swamy's house the night before. 
 
 " Why ? " Lakshmi echoed. " Is it not 
 written, memsahib, that such a marriage is 
 against the will of the gods ? He would be an 
 outcast. His father, his mother, his brother, 
 and his sister may not look upon his face 
 again. Nay, more : they would disclaim him 
 and shun him as they shun the leper. Is it 
 not so written, memsahib ? He must creep 
 away out into the jungle to die, he and she, 
 for the hand of all would be raised against 
 him and her. . . . Creep . . . away ... to 
 die." 
 
 " And you would shun him, little woman ? "
 
 A WOMAN'S VIGIL 211 
 
 "I, Lakshmi ! " The girl looked up in 
 amazement. " We are betrothed," she said 
 again. 
 
 " But if he went away with — with this 
 white woman ? " 
 
 " She could not keep him after death, and 
 death is longer than life, memsahib." 
 
 Charlotte stooped and kissed the girl again. 
 
 " He may return," she said, " and there 
 may be no white memsahib with him." 
 
 " You know where he is ? " 
 
 Lakshmi had seized her hands with a soft 
 cry of expectation. 
 
 "I, child ? How should I know where 
 he is ? " 
 
 And the answer chilled her. 
 
 " Because you are the white memsahib he 
 loves. You — yes, you ; for I have heard him 
 call your name in the dead of night when none 
 was near him but I. Memsahib, you will be 
 good to him, my Krishna, and give him back 
 to me after death ? Say you will, memsahib, 
 and I will wait — yes, wait yonder with my 
 father until he shall have returned." 
 
 Tears were streaming down the girl's 
 face, and the brown fingers tightened round 
 the white hands of the wondering, amazed 
 woman,
 
 212 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " It is not I that he loves, child." Her 
 voice was stern, but there was a frightened 
 look on her face. " That is impossible. 
 Never speak like that again. You may go 
 back to your father and rest in peace." 
 
 Lakshmi stared incredulously at the white, 
 startled face. It was incomprehensible to 
 her that Krishna could not inspire this 
 woman with love for him. She rose to her 
 feet, bowed reverently to the dead, and, 
 stooping low, kissed the white hand of the 
 woman. 
 
 Night came and found Charlotte wandering 
 restlessly from room to room. The mystery 
 of the mangrove avenue, so easily solved by 
 those whom it least concerned, robbed her of 
 the tears that in her bereavement might have 
 soothed. The work she had shared with the 
 man who had died had steeled her nerves 
 against many possibilities that would have 
 tried the strength of a man ; but with the 
 horror of inscrutable mystery added to death 
 her plight was pitiable indeed. 
 
 Although she did not suspect it, Pericard 
 had not taken her fully into his confidence. A 
 spy never trusts implicitly. The plans which 
 they had locked up in the writing-desk she 
 believed to be those for which they had
 
 A WOMAN'S VIGIL 213 
 
 plotted and risked so much. He had warned 
 her of his intention to bait the Neon Count, 
 whose real mission in India he had suspected 
 from the first. It was her suggestion that 
 she should shadow him, and she had laughed 
 heartily the next day when she told Pericard 
 how she had presented the Count with his 
 own drawings. Then came the discovery 
 that another thief dwelt in the house, and 
 Pericard had allowed her to weep bitter tears 
 of disappointment because the plans which 
 she had returned to the desk had disappeared. 
 
 When Pericard left her on the night that 
 proved his last, he intimated that the object 
 of a secret journey which he had in view was 
 the recovery of the lost plans. Perhaps he had 
 learned of the midnight meeting in Kuppu- 
 swamy's house in the same way that Graham 
 had learned of it, and instinct warned him of 
 its significance. 
 
 And they had brought his dead body home 
 to her. Only Graham Dennis was likely to 
 throw any light on the mystery. Many a time 
 that day had her head " boy " crossed the city 
 to inquire about Graham sahib's condition, 
 but the message was always the same, " Still 
 unconscious," and hope was being slowly 
 driven from her heart.
 
 214 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 Poor Grahamy boy ! She had heard his 
 mother call him thus, and she found herself 
 mechanically repeating the words as she 
 wandered to and fro. The recollection of his 
 pained look when she whipped him with her 
 angry words brought a lump into her throat. 
 He was not the first man who had sought to 
 share her life, but none had crept so closely 
 to her heart as Graham — big, muscular, 
 ingenuous Graham, who knew not nor cared 
 for subterfuge even in the art of love-making. 
 
 It was a typical Eastern night — a bright, 
 clear sky, with a silver moon hanging like 
 a pendant from its breast. The " boy " 
 came in with the lighted lamps, but she pre- 
 ferred the calm of darkness, and he took them 
 away again. She threw open the window of 
 the room and watched the fireflies playing 
 hide-and-seek in the shrubbery. A deep still- 
 ness was broken only by the fitful scream of 
 the cicada. For the first time, a sense of her 
 loneliness overwhelmed her — an awesome, 
 dreary, interminable loneliness. It was hot 
 and sultry in the room, for she had dispensed 
 with the punka-wala, and yet she shivered 
 as she sat by the open window. She rose 
 with the intention of throwing a light cash- 
 mere shawl about her shoulders. Then she
 
 A WOMAN'S VIGIL 215 
 
 remembered that it was in that other room 
 where he lay. She walked to the door, 
 stopped with her hand on the knob and 
 hesitated. It was dark in there, and . . . 
 and she trembled. The drowsy silence was 
 the silence of the grave ! 
 
 Slowly, fearfully, she opened the door and 
 peered in. Through the window-screen the 
 moonlight stretched like a long white stream, 
 and bathed the face of the dead in its splen- 
 dour. He seemed to be smiling at her fears 
 as she stood there on the threshold, her 
 heart beating rapidly with a terror she had 
 never before known. The lids of the eyes had 
 not been quite closed in the last sleep, and the 
 moonlight, intensifying the pallor of the 
 cheeks, threw into relief the dark lashes and 
 the glazed, partially concealed pupils. In 
 her trepidation her fancy seemed to trick her. 
 It was only a wisp of cloud passing across the 
 moon that made those lashes flicker. With 
 a half-suppressed cry she stretched out her 
 hand to touch the bell. Her courage had 
 failed her. Then she remembered that in 
 craven terror the house " boys " had begged 
 permission to sleep the night in their own 
 homes in the native quarter of the city. 
 
 Once more the wave of loneliness engulfed.
 
 2i6 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 her, and she stood petrified, gazing at the 
 dead and its white, ghostly drapery. And as 
 she stood there a bat flew against the window, 
 and with a cry of fear she turned back to the 
 dining-room. 
 
 How dark it was ! And silent ! 
 
 The moon had hidden itself behind a cloud- 
 bank. She could not see across the room. 
 She would light the lamp, or, better still, she 
 would steal quietly away to her room and 
 tempt sleep. And . . . 
 
 Heavens ! What was that staring at her 
 from out of the darkness on the. other side of 
 the room ? Two deep red specks of living 
 fire ! Two eyes that moved, and . . . and 
 . . . were coming towards her ! She could 
 not speak nor stir. Her tongue might have 
 been strung back in her throat. Her limbs 
 were cold and paralysed. 
 
 They came nearer ! She saw the face, dark 
 as the night itself, and haggard and wrinkled, 
 and the cheeks sagging as the lips moved 
 in unintelligible sounds. She crouched back 
 against the wall, and feebly raised her hands 
 to ward it off. 
 
 " Charlotte ! " 
 
 A deep, unnatural voice — the very walls 
 reverberated:
 
 A WOMAN'S VIGIL 217 
 
 " You ! " she gasped in terror — " you, 
 Krishna ! " 
 
 " Yes, Charlotte — Krishna." 
 
 " What do 3^ou seek in this house ? " 
 
 Her face was hvid. Lakshmi's words were 
 ringing in her ears : "He loves a white 
 memsahib." 
 
 " What do I seek ? " The low, forced laugh 
 jarred on her nerves as the clanging of a 
 broken bell. " I have come to seek you, 
 Charlotte. And I have found you — alone ! 
 You are not afraid of me, Charlotte — not 
 afraid of Krishna. Come nearer." 
 
 She shrank away. 
 
 " No, you must go. You have no right to 
 intrude upon my privacy, upon the dead." 
 
 " The dead ! " he echoed bitterly—" the 
 dead cannot feel nor resent." 
 
 "If you have no respect for my feelings, at 
 least respect the dead." 
 
 Her voice was steadier ; her courage in 
 the face of the unexpected was returning. 
 He was close to her now — so close that she 
 could feel his hot breath on her face. His 
 clothes were torn and bedraggled as though 
 he had been hunted from place to place, and 
 there were splashes of mud on his cheeks and 
 hands.
 
 2i8 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " If you are a man, you will leave my house 
 at once." She put out her hands to keep him 
 at bay. " Have you not a spark of respect 
 for me ? " 
 
 " Respect ! " He stepped back from her 
 and lurched against the piano, still keeping his 
 glowing eyes fixed upon her. " Respect ! 
 respect ! " he repeated. " That is not the 
 word. It is because I love you, Charlotte, 
 that I have come here to-night. Love ! love ! 
 Don't you understand ? Have you not under- 
 stood all along — from the very first night that 
 I met you . . . your words, your eyes, your 
 smiles, the pressure of your white fingers on 
 mine ? Don't you remember ? See, it is all 
 burned in here, branded on my brain with hot, 
 searing irons. I had not lived till then. But 
 how I have lived since ! " 
 
 His vehemence drove the blood from her 
 heart. Her lips moved in a prayer. 
 
 " You must be mad to talk like this," she 
 faltered, pointing to the open window. " Go 
 before you are prevented. Go and — and I 
 will forgive you. Go and leave me with my 
 dead brother." 
 
 " Go ! " He laughed again — that harsh 
 jangling laugh. " Yes, I will go if you will 
 come with me." He sprang towards her
 
 A WOMAN'S VIGIL 219 
 
 again and seized her white wrists. " Charlotte, 
 you must come. I am going to save you ! " 
 
 " Save me ? " 
 
 " Yes, save you from them. I know them, 
 Charlotte, know the mockery of their so- 
 called justice. They will send you away — 
 banish you to one of their hell-holes on the 
 Andaman Islands. There are thousands there. 
 I know. Thousands of men and women whose 
 only crime was love of their country. They 
 are dying in hundreds daily — dying of sicken- 
 ing, loathsome diseases that creep upon them 
 in a single night. And their crime, remember, 
 was only love. Yours — yours " 
 
 " WeU ? " 
 
 Her head was thrown back defiantly. She 
 was measuring him with scornful eye, as one 
 might measure a thing one hated and despised. 
 Her withering contempt checked the flow of 
 words, but her grandeur of spirit thrilled 
 him. 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 She took a step towards him. 
 
 " Need I remind you ? " 
 
 She had awed him. He was wavering. 
 The victory strengthened her. 
 
 " Who are you to remind me of anything ? 
 Who are you but a pampered native who
 
 220 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 aspires to a false position, who in the presence 
 of misguided friends — who would kill you 
 where you stand if they were here — apes the 
 gentleman ; a native tarred with a smattering 
 of education, and who talks of ideals and 
 ambition with the conceit of a trinketed 
 savage ; a native whose manliness extends 
 to the forcible intrusion on a woman's loneli- 
 ness and grief ? Go back, you cur ! back to 
 the kennel from which you have broken 
 loose, or, weak woman that I am, I'll — 
 I'll -" 
 
 Her frenzied eyes sought a weapon. An 
 old riding-whip hung from the frame of a 
 sporting print immediately above her head. 
 With the quickness of a cat she seized it, and, 
 before he could divine her intention, before 
 he could spring back out of her reach, she 
 had brought the stock down with a stinging 
 cut across his face ; then, with a wail of 
 despair, she reeled against the wall and 
 awaited his retaliation. 
 
 The seconds that followed seemed like 
 long-drawn-out years. Through the gloom 
 she could see his burning eyes moving rest- 
 lessly in their sockets, as though he were 
 lashing himself into a rage. She prayed for 
 strength to shout aloud for help, but even
 
 A WOMAN'S VIGIL 221 
 
 in her terror she reaHzed the f utiHty of raising 
 her voice. Who could hear her on that lonely 
 hill-side ? 
 
 The white moon, freed of the clouds, poured 
 into the room. Krishna had seated himself at 
 the piano. His left elbow rested on the open 
 keyboard and supported his head. She was 
 unable to suppress a cry when she saw his 
 wild, disfigured face. He was smiling, actually 
 smiling at her, and sadness and bitterness 
 were strangely blended in that smile. The 
 blow she had struck him had brought the 
 blood. It trickled in a thin dark stream, 
 scarcely discernible on the dark skin, down 
 his right cheek and on to his mud-stained 
 linen shirt-front. His passion seemed to have 
 died down. He was gazing at her, pityingly 
 yet pleadingly. His voice was calm and 
 wonderfully modulated when he spoke again. 
 
 " Only a woman such as you could serve a 
 Government," he said admiringly. " Oh, if 
 India could breed such women, she had never 
 fallen ! " 
 
 " Could serve " She repeated the words 
 
 in a frightened whisper. 
 
 " As a spy," he added coldly. " Even they 
 would hesitate to confine such a spirit within 
 the four walls of a noisome cell."
 
 222 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " A cell ! " 
 
 " Or in the fever marshes of their damnable 
 penal settlements." 
 
 She was breathing hard and her hands were 
 pressed to her temples. Then the foolishness 
 of her fears and the ludicrous way in 
 which she was allowing him to play 
 upon them revived her contempt. He 
 seemed to know what was passing in her 
 mind. 
 
 " Yes," he muttered bitterly, " they would 
 give you a trial in time of peace, but their 
 trials are more iniquitous than the rifle-shot 
 in time of war." 
 
 " Proof, proof ! " she sneered, with feminine 
 indiscretion. It was the opening for which he 
 had been fencing. 
 
 " Only this," he replied slowly, drawing 
 from a pocket of his bramble-torn coat a 
 roll of paper. " Only this," he repeated, 
 tapping it gently on his knee — " detailed 
 plans of ten impregnable forts, drawn up and 
 carefully revised by Charlotte Bressane and 
 Henri Pericard." 
 
 She could not utter a word — could only 
 crouch and stare at the man and the paper in 
 his hand. He realized the advantage gained. 
 There were sobs in his voice as he went on in a
 
 A WOMAN'S VIGIL 223 
 
 whisper that might not have been intended 
 for her ears. 
 
 " It would kill her — it would kill her ! A 
 month in those fever-ridden swamps would 
 kill her." 
 
 He rose and took her by the hand. She 
 offered no resistance ; she was dazed, stupe- 
 fied. 
 
 " It would kill you, Charlotte," he breathed 
 in her ear. " Don't you realize the horror of 
 it ? But we can cheat them, you and I. Char- 
 lotte, I want you, desire you more than any- 
 thing else the world may hold. Do you hear 
 me, Charlotte ? I want your white face and 
 your white, warm arms. I want your love — 
 your deep, abiding love. And we will creep 
 away in the darkness — away into the moun- 
 tains of Coorg ; thither none can track us to 
 our bridal feast . All that you desire, Charlotte, 
 shall be yours for the asking, for the garnered 
 stores of generations are to my hands. You 
 shall be my queen, Charlotte — do you hear ? 
 — my queen, and I will sacrifice everything — 
 dreams, ambitions, friends — to your love." 
 
 His arms were about her ; his hot breath 
 was steaming her face and blinding her. 
 Controlled by his passion, he was crushing 
 her to him.
 
 224 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 With a despairing cry, she wrenched her- 
 self free and leaped at the window. He 
 intercepted her, forced her back, and 
 answered her cry of " Help me, Graham ! " 
 with a low, bitter laugh. 
 
 " He ! He help you ! You call upon 
 him ! " 
 
 His eyes were gleaming anew. He sprang 
 upon her and caught the wrists of her upraised 
 arms. 
 
 " He could not give you half the love that 
 I shall give you. You could never give 
 him half the love that you shall give me 
 now." 
 
 She was panting, weak, and exhausted, and 
 when he lifted her from the floor on which she 
 had sunk, she hung a limp dead weight in his 
 arms. 
 
 " Come," he laughed, " once you asked me 
 to play for you. I fulfil my promise to-night. 
 And you shall laugh with me — yes, and you 
 shall kiss — kiss me with those red lips of yours 
 as you never could kiss him." 
 
 He drew her across the floor to the open 
 piano, and placed her on a chair in such a 
 position that her face was turned to his. 
 
 He touched the keys lightly, softly, and 
 they responded to the touch as bird to bird in
 
 A WOMAN'S VIGIL 225 
 
 the early morn. From the moment he struck 
 the first note a change came over him. All 
 around was impenetrable darkness, save when 
 the moon threw fitful beams through the 
 window, but a weird blue light that held her 
 spell-bound illumined his face. Never for an 
 instant did he turn his eyes from her to the 
 ivory keys, but he inclined his head to the 
 instrument, and rocked and swayed in sym- 
 pathy with the sweet cadences. Gently, 
 caressingly, his long brown fingers, spattered 
 from the nails to the wrist with blood but 
 newly dried, moved across the keyboard ; 
 and as they moved they seemed to be beckon- 
 ing to her, calling to her through the voice 
 of the music, to creep into their embrace. 
 Once she attempted to rise, to break away 
 from the invisible chain that bound her to 
 the chair, to shriek in wild protestation 
 against this violation of the sleep of the 
 dead. His mocking laughter forced her back. 
 She covered her face with her hands to shut 
 out the scene, but he was irresistible, and her 
 eyes met his again. She twisted her fingers 
 in her hair and thrust them in her ears, but 
 the more she strove against it the more com- 
 pelling the melody. It floated about her 
 with the sweet fragrance of incense ; it
 
 226 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 numbed her body ; it blinded her vision ; 
 it deadened every sense but that which she 
 sought to sacrifice. 
 
 It played itself into dreams — wild, extrava- 
 gant dreams — and wove her fancy into them. 
 Now it was the dawn. She saw the sombre 
 mantle of night drawn aside, and in the east a 
 splash of gold and amber threw defiance at the 
 paling stars. She heard the freshening breeze 
 stirring the drowsy leaves of the giant palm, 
 and felt its cold, damp kiss on her colder brow. 
 A bird woke up in a distant lime and called 
 sleepily to its mate in a neighbouring deodar. 
 She heard the answering " tee- wit," saw the 
 sheen of its feathers as it flew into the golden 
 flood of the sun, and marked the majestic 
 throw of its pinions as it circled above the 
 lime. 
 
 Swiftly, wonderfully, silently, the night 
 shadows died away before the glorious day- 
 break. On the hill-side the flowers opened 
 their petals, and the breeze brought her their 
 first rich offerings of the dewy morn. 
 
 He played on. 
 
 He might have been unconscious of her 
 presence, but she feared to move or turn 
 away her eyes. 
 
 It was raining. She could hear the " seesh !
 
 A WOMAN'S VIGIL 227 
 
 seesh ! " on the broad leaves of the traveller- 
 palms in the garden. The sky grew dark as 
 night and the lightning flashed. The very 
 heavens seemed to open with a roar, and a 
 deluge fell upon the land. She could hear 
 the boom of the swollen, swirling river ; the 
 hoarse cries of the terrified mahouts as they 
 forced the trumpeting elephants across the 
 ford, and the loud howling of the living things 
 in the water — beasts of the jungle and oxen 
 that had been swept into the turbulent flood. 
 And the wind and the rain whipped the 
 bosom of the river into a milk-white foam, 
 and amid its whiteness she saw the dark trunk 
 of a deodar, torn from its roots in the hill- 
 side, and on that trunk the white face of a 
 man turned to her for help. She leaned 
 forward and scanned the features, and, with 
 a cry of dismay, she recognized Graham. 
 She could see his body now, all bruised and 
 bleeding where it had been struck by the 
 swirling boulders. She called to him to cling 
 with all his might, for the storm was abating ; 
 but even as she called, another form crept 
 stealthily along the splintered bark and 
 dragged him down into the river's heart. 
 
 The scene changed to one of Eastern splen- 
 dour. She was a Queen, and sat on a throne
 
 228 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 of gold and silver that reflected the sun, and 
 rubies that shimmered like drops of human 
 blood. Fountains splashed at her feet, and 
 the air was heavy and pregnant with sickly, 
 sensuous perfume. And soft-eyed daughters 
 of old India lay back among their cushions at 
 her feet, and sang to her ballads of Eastern 
 romance, and threw jasmine buds in her face. 
 She laughed with them — a soft, seductive, 
 rippling laugh, that floated up among the 
 overhanging leaves and mingled with the 
 melody of a myriad birds. Then the girls 
 threw aside their silken cushions, and four 
 made music through their bamboo flutes, 
 while the others danced and sang in the 
 shadow of the trees. They waved their 
 hands to her to descend from the throne 
 and join them, and with trembling feet — for 
 she envied them their lightness — she crept 
 down. And scarce had she reached the 
 ground, when out of the glade a man came 
 forth to greet her. He did not speak, just 
 opened his arms, and there was a tenderness 
 in his eyes that drew her to him, soul to 
 soul. 
 
 He wound his arms around her and loosened 
 her hair, so that the breeze flung it, wild and 
 rebellious, about her bare white shoulders ;
 
 A WOMAN'S VIGIL 229 
 
 and as he held her thus she raised her eyes, 
 and his Ups met hers in a warm, dinging 
 embrace. Her blood tingled with a wild, 
 passionate, unrestrained delight. He was 
 drawing the very breath out of her, but it 
 was sweeter to die unsevered than to live 
 without such love. 
 
 " Again ! " and " Again ! " and " Again ! " 
 he cried, tearing himself from her only to 
 fetch breath, and again, and again, and again 
 she kissed him with a passion that left her 
 exhausted. And 
 
 Suddenly the music ceased, and with a 
 shriek she regained her mental balance. 
 Krishna was still seated at the piano, but 
 her arms were around his neck, her lips 
 newly plucked from his ! 
 
 She screamed in terror, but he held her a 
 prisoner, kissing her lips, her eyes, her neck, 
 with a ferocity that wrung from her a cry for 
 death. 
 
 " Death ! No, not death," he answered 
 hoarsely, "but life — young, strong, full- 
 blooded life ! You are mine, Charlotte — mine 
 to hold and keep — mine by virtue of your 
 kisses. Death ! No ! We are not old and 
 musty as parchment, but strong with a vigour 
 that life can give but once."
 
 230 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 His words poured forth in a wild, ungovern- 
 able torrent. 
 
 " God help me ! " she moaned. " Who or 
 what are you ? *' 
 
 " Yours, Charlotte," he cried exultingly 
 — " yours, only yours, and you are 
 mine ! " 
 
 Her strength was leaving her and her 
 brain throbbed. Held in his steel-like arms, 
 she glanced helplessly round the room. With 
 a quick movement she eluded him and sprang 
 for the door, and, like a beast balked of its 
 prey, he sprang after her. The very hopless- 
 ness of her chance of escape gave her strength. 
 A painted urn was standing on a small bam- 
 boo table near the door. She grasped it by 
 the neck, and as he came up to her she dashed 
 it with all her force in his face. 
 
 Before he could recover himself she had 
 opened the door and found sanctuary in the 
 room of the dead. Maddened by pain, he 
 followed. She was crouching by the side of 
 the coffin, clinging for protection to a cold 
 white hand. 
 
 " Stop ! " she cried in an awful whisper. 
 " You dare not defy the dead ! " 
 
 For a moment he stood on the threshold, 
 wavering ; then, clear and bold and deep.
 
 A WOMAN'S VIGIL 231 
 
 there came to their ears the tolling of a temple 
 bell. 
 
 " One ! . . . Two ! . . . Three ! . . . Four ! 
 . . . Five ! . . . Six ! . . . Seven ! " 
 
 He counted each stroke, and as he counted 
 the fire left his eyes and he shook with fear. 
 
 " Their Voice ! Their voice ! " he cried, 
 and, turning, fled.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE serpent's TOOTH 
 
 CAPTAIN RANDOLPH FORTESCUE, 
 commanding Fort T , was a robust 
 
 man of forty-five, who had confounded the 
 predictions of his home friends by surviving 
 the ordeal of ten years' service in India 
 without a scratch being recorded against his 
 bill of health or his character. Not a single 
 night of fever had been chalked up to his 
 name, and not a single line of type in the 
 English newspapers had disturbed his peace 
 of mind. What his conscience suffered from 
 reading between the lines he was not fool 
 enough to say. 
 
 His luck was the despair of brother-officers, 
 to whom the law list was more familiar 
 than the army list. And yet his sovereign 
 remedies against all ills were simple enough 
 — whisky for germs, and — er — indifference in 
 other directions. So far as the duties of his 
 profession were concerned, he was inclined 
 to be stolid, and he actually fattened on 
 head-quarter bickerings that would have 
 driven other officers to their wits' end. The 
 latest scare, however, had spoilt a good 
 cheroot and flattened an uncommonly strong 
 whisky. A despatch from the Commander- 
 
 232
 
 THE SERPENT'S TOOTH 233 
 
 in-Chief threatened to disturb his equan- 
 imity, and he had sent an orderly to his 
 friend Captain Grierson, of the Royals, re- 
 questing the pleasure of his company for an 
 hour. 
 
 Grierson, six or seven years his junior, was 
 one of those gay, handsome fellows whose 
 good looks are invariably the cause of their 
 being drafted abroad. He reached the fort 
 with a countenance as rueful as that of a 
 " chitty " who had just witnessed the depar- 
 ture of a tramp steamer with one of his best 
 clients on board. Fortescue smiled know- 
 ingly, and pushed the soda across the table. 
 
 " Who is it this time ? " he chuckled, forget- 
 ting his own troubles in his amusement at the 
 other's obvious discomfiture. 
 
 " You're awfully cheerful," Grierson 
 growled. " Pity your sins don't find you out. 
 You'd know the meaning of sympathy then." 
 
 " Ah, that's the worst of you fellows," 
 Fortescue laughed. " You fool about with a 
 mine, like a lot of schoolboys with a tin of 
 powder and a match, and then you expect a 
 battalion to go down on its knees and offer 
 up prayers for you." 
 
 " We're not all so devilishly cute as you, 
 ' Forty.' Perhaps it's a good thing for the
 
 234 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 women that we're not. Reduce — er — indis- 
 cretion to a fine art, and what's going to 
 happen to the world ? " 
 
 " Judging from your doleful appearance, 
 you haven't made much of an art out of it 
 yet. But who is it, may I ask again ? " 
 
 " The same : I'm not a bee." 
 
 " A — h — h ! " Fortescue helped himself to 
 a whisky. " You're still in the goose-step, 
 my boy, and you're How old are you ? " 
 
 " Oh, drop it ! How the devil was I to 
 know that the tiger-drive was a blind ? " 
 
 Another " A— h— h ! " 
 
 " So he bagged other game, eh ? Poor old 
 Colonel ! He was always good on strategical 
 moves. Well, cheer up. Here's something to 
 divert your thoughts for a few days, at least. 
 Kay sent this over the wires this morning. 
 Looks like a mare's-nest ; but, then, you 
 know what he is." 
 
 Grierson took the despatch and read : 
 
 " Watch person calling himself Major Skew. 
 Am warned that he is a spy, and with female, 
 named Charlotte Bressane, has brought off coup. 
 Every officer commanding who has made Skew's 
 acquaintance must report personally details and 
 explanations."
 
 THE SERPENT'S TOOTH 235 
 
 " Well, what do you think of it ? " 
 
 Grierson threw the despatch back with a 
 smile. 
 
 " Seeing that they buried Skew yesterday, I 
 don't think you need waste any time watch- 
 ing. But I'll be quite frank with you : I 
 never liked the fellow from the first, and I'm 
 not the only one who thinks that your 
 indifference to his knocking about here at 
 will was — well, a trifle indiscreet, to say the 
 least of it." 
 
 " You're awfully cheerful," Fortescue 
 growled in turn. 
 
 " Yes, but we're not so deviUshly cute as 
 you," Grierson chuckled. 
 
 " But if he's dead and buried, where's the 
 fuss come in ? " 
 
 " I don't say that he died intestate," 
 Grierson replied significantly. " And there's 
 the lady, of course." 
 
 " Know her ? " 
 
 Grierson nodded affirmatively. 
 
 " Cute ? " 
 
 " And deuced smart with it. If you're 
 thinking things in that direction, don't 
 trouble. She's not the weeping confession 
 sort." 
 
 " What did Skew die of ? Whisky ? "
 
 236 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " There's a mystery about the business. 
 Appears he was found near the house of the 
 lady, with a Service bullet in his brain. 
 Young Graham Dennis — you know him : big 
 fellow with a heavy jaw — was lying across 
 his body, and raving like a coolie run amok. 
 Everything pointed to Skew having com- 
 mitted suicide, but why he should do it no 
 one seems to know. There's a sequel. Skew 
 turns out to have been a brother of the lady 
 you're worrying yourself about." 
 
 " You're a regular Blue-Book," said 
 Fortescue admiringly. " Hullo ! what is it ? " 
 
 An orderly, at the attention, was standing 
 on the veranda steps. 
 
 " Another despatch ! " Captain Fortescue 
 took the message and dismissed the man. 
 Grierson was refilling the glasses while the 
 other read, and he dropped the siphon with 
 a crash as Fortescue wheeled round, an oath 
 on his lips. 
 
 " My God ! Grierson, this means trouble 
 for some of us. Listen : 
 
 " To Captain Randolph Fortescue, 
 Commanding Fort T 
 
 "A second anonymous communication re- 
 ceived this morning states that Major Skew is in
 
 THE SERPENT'S TOOTH 237 
 
 possession of complete plans of ten forts, includ- 
 ing your own [here followed the names of the 
 forts'], and that he is working in conjunction 
 with a certain Count Cimea, who is attached to 
 the S.I.D. of Neon. Take every possible step 
 to ascertain truth or otherwise of statement. 
 Seriousness of situation doubled by crisis briefly 
 reported in ' Courier ' to-day (p. 5, col. i)." 
 
 Grierson emitted a long, low whistle. 
 
 " The devil ! but the old man seems to 
 have struck a busy correspondent." 
 
 Fortescue was silently contemplating the 
 message in his hand. When he looked up again 
 there was a troubled expression on his face. 
 
 " Send for a copy of the Courier," he 
 said ; and Grierson passed the order on to 
 an orderly, who returned in a few minutes 
 with the newspaper. 
 
 " Find it," said Fortescue abruptly, sinking 
 into a chair. 
 
 Grierson eagerly turned over the pages. 
 
 " Whew ! Listen to this : 
 
 " THE serpent's TOOTH 
 "Britain and her Thankless Foster-Child. 
 
 " Earl Blay, the Secretary of State for 
 Foreign Affairs, has addressed, we understand,
 
 238 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 a strongly worded letter of protest to 
 Neon's Foreign Secretary, in consequence of 
 the remarkable speech made by an ex-states- 
 man who undoubtedly wields great influence 
 in that country. If the speech bears but a 
 suspicion of the stamp of officialism, Earl 
 Blay is amply justified in asking for — nay, 
 demanding — an immediate explanation. If, 
 on the other hand, the Government repudiates 
 the speaker, Britain would be within her rights 
 in insisting on a severe reprimand being ad- 
 ministered to such a dangerous firebrand. 
 Briefly, the ex-statesman urged his country- 
 men to extend the range of their already high 
 ambitions, and tighten the bonds of sympathy 
 which exist between them and the native 
 races of India. European oppression, he said, 
 was squeezing the life-blood out of the natives, 
 who, like branded slaves, were crying aloud 
 for succour. India under the rule of Neon, he 
 said, would be a land of peace and content- 
 ment. 
 
 " Assuming," the newspaper added, editor- 
 ially, " that, through some awful and unfore- 
 seen contingency, India were at liberty to 
 place herself in the hands of this Power, which 
 we have reared from comparative barbarism, 
 we wonder which of the two would be the more
 
 THE SERPENT'S TOOTH 239 
 
 anxious to get rid of the other at the end of 
 twelve months. Is it not time that John Bull 
 dropped the role of imperturbable papa and 
 used the thick end of his slipper in the old- 
 fashioned but salutary manner ? " 
 
 " ' Forty/ " said Grierson sententiously, 
 " what did I tell you three years ago, when 
 we heard that the stork had brought us 
 another baby ? " 
 
 " I don't know," replied Fortescue un- 
 graciously, " and I don't care. What you can 
 tell me now is how to get to the bottom of this 
 business. It may be all moonshine, but the 
 possibilities are disquieting. Who is this 
 Count Cimea, anyway, and what the devil is 
 he doing here at all ? Tell me that, Grierson, 
 and don't stand there like a hamstrung 
 fencer." 
 
 Fortescue was gradually working himself 
 up into a temper. 
 
 " My dear fellow " 
 
 " Oh, for God's sake don't ' dear ' me, as if 
 I were — the Colonel's wife, but think of some- 
 thing — do something." 
 
 "I'd like to commence by pulling your 
 nose," Grierson retorted, " but your hair's 
 too grey to dignify the proceeding. I suppose 
 you want me to suggest that we send a
 
 240 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 regiment down to arrest this young lady 
 and search her house ? About the most 
 idiotic thing you could do in the circum- 
 stances." 
 
 " Why idiotic ? " 
 
 " What proof have you that she is what 
 the old man's correspondent says she is ? 
 And, assuming that she is, do you think she's 
 fool enough to paper her boudoir with the 
 plans ? No, my dear fellow ; all that you 
 can do at present is to sit tight, keep your 
 ears open and your eyes skinned, and don't 
 advertise your trouble." 
 
 " A proceeding which the old man would 
 term ' highly commendable,' " said Fortescue 
 caustically. 
 
 " You can wager your reputation against a 
 pinch of snuff that, if the plans were intended 
 for the scrutiny of our dear neighbours in 
 Neon, Skew's death won't prevent their 
 getting them. And his death, by the way, 
 assumes a new significance." 
 
 " If you'd stop theorizing and try to be a 
 little more practical, I should value your 
 assistance in the matter. What are we going 
 to do to recover the plans ? And what are 
 we going to report to the old man if they are 
 irrecoverable ? I suppose you have an idea
 
 THE SERPENT'S TOOTH 241 
 
 what it will mean if they have been taken out 
 of the country ? " 
 
 " Slight increase in next year's Budget 
 for extra military expenditure, reconstruction 
 of forts, etc., I suppose," Grierson drawled. 
 " But here's Major Blayton, coming along 
 like Nick in a high wind. Perhaps he can 
 throw some light on the matter. Hullo, 
 Blayton ! who's the chitty you're dodging ? " 
 
 Major Blayton, of the Garrison Artillery, 
 leaped from the saddle and spat the dust out 
 of his mouth. 
 
 " By Jove ! " he gasped, " anybody, to look 
 at you fellows, would think you'd booked 
 your passage home, and didn't care a snap 
 if it snowed. Why, the very deuce of a 
 game's on foot." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; we know all about it," said 
 Fortescue wearily. " Sit down and tell us 
 the latest." 
 
 " The latest ! From what I can gather, the 
 thing's as old as — as you, almost. You've 
 heard from Kay, I suppose ? " 
 
 Grierson nodded and pointed to the des- 
 patches. 
 
 " So've we," said Blayton, " and I tell you 
 what it is : the old boy is on a good thing this 
 time, although they'll kick him in the ribs at 
 
 G
 
 242 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 home. See if they don't. But does anyone 
 here know this Cimea ? " 
 
 " Met him once or twice," repHed Grierson. 
 " Skew used to bring him into the club. 
 Short chap with a Darwinian pedigree, and 
 carries a bundle of toothpicks behind his 
 ears." 
 
 " What I can't understand," said Blayton, 
 going off at a tangent, " is the slavishness of 
 the people at home. Why should they allow 
 a man like that to come out here and preach 
 the gospel of rebellion to the niggers, 
 for Winters tells me that has been his 
 game ? " 
 
 " Seems to be a popular game, too," said 
 Grierson ironically, " judging from the way 
 in which some of our own people have taken 
 to it lately." 
 
 " Egad," said Blayton warmly, " they'll 
 have the sequel sooner than they anticipate. 
 Had a letter yesterday from Wilding — you 
 remember him, ' Forty ' — of the Lancers. 
 He says that there is a restlessness among 
 the native troops in Burmah that would turn 
 the old man's hair grey if he knew of it. But 
 they're afraid to squeal for fear of being 
 jumped on by the people at home for raising 
 a bogie."
 
 THE SERPENT'S TOOTH 243 
 
 " You're an old woman," Fortescue 
 snapped, " and so is Wilding." 
 
 " Fact ! " Blayton shook his finger warn- 
 ingly. " You mark my words : these con- 
 founded agitators will not be happy until 
 they've upset the whole country. They're 
 like cockroaches on an old steamer — if you 
 don't kill them in the morning, they'll have 
 a family of followers by night. Wilding 
 assures me that there is an ominous uneasi- 
 ness among the troops, but it is impossible 
 to get to the source of the mischief. They 
 are growing insolent, and he had to knock 
 one of the devils down on parade the other 
 day because he refused point-blank to come 
 to the salute." 
 
 " Bah ! " Fortescue flung away his cigar 
 and shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. 
 " There is nothing to be feared in that 
 direction ; it's the Neon business that 
 worries me." 
 
 Blayton was obviously annoyed. " You 
 forget," he expostulated, " that they are 
 our " 
 
 " Yes, I am aware of all that, my dear 
 Blayton, but your knowledge of the world 
 ought to remind you that a jealous friend is 
 more to be feared than an avowed enemy.
 
 244 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 I am convinced that there is an undercurrent 
 in this flood of rumour that will require a 
 good deal of fathoming. We shall not get 
 into very deep water by sitting here arguing 
 the pros and cons of diplomatic moves." 
 
 " Suggest a move," said Grierson. 
 
 " I'll move myself," Fortescue retorted. 
 " If it's going to be a game of finesse, there'll 
 be no need of a brass band and a town-crier. 
 So you, Grierson, can clear out to your 
 quarters, and neither do nor say anything 
 until you get your cue. Blayton can do 
 similar duty, and I'll go out and reconnoitre." 
 
 " Conceit rampant in its armour of grey 
 hairs," quoth Grierson. " Come along, 
 Blayton ; the Empire hath no more need 
 of us." 
 
 They went down the veranda steps arm- 
 in-arm.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 LOVE AND DUTY 
 
 IN the Slaney-Dennis household the period 
 of acute anxiety had passed. Graham had 
 not only allayed the fears of the medical men 
 that his reason had been impaired, but had 
 brought a feeling of blessed comfort to his 
 father by sitting up in bed and swearing 
 roundly and easily at the punkah-wala for 
 dozing. And he had stilled the fears of his 
 doting mother by requesting only a glance at 
 a cocktail, if further indulgence were abso- 
 lutely denied by the doctor. 
 
 Gradually a recollection of all that had led 
 up to his collapse awakened, and, with that 
 instinct which is common to us all, he turned 
 to his mother for help in his darkness. And 
 with the tenderness and solicitude of a mother 
 she recalled the name that had lingered longest 
 on his lips during the hours of his mental 
 derangement. 
 
 " And her brother, the Major — you know, 
 mother ? " 
 
 " Yes, we all know now, Grahamy boy. 
 You were found by his dead body in the 
 mangrove avenue near the house, and during 
 your illness you helped to clear up the 
 mystery." 
 
 245
 
 246 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " And she, Charlotte— how did she bear 
 it all ? " 
 
 " Heaven only knows ! His death was 
 terrible enough, in all conscience, but the 
 mystery of the whole thing — why he com- 
 mitted suicide — must have driven her almost 
 insane. His body was taken to her house. 
 She met the bearers without a tear in her 
 eyes — she must have nerves of steel — and 
 preferred to remain alone with it in that 
 awful house ! Ugh ! The very thought of 
 it sends a beetle down my back." 
 
 " They did not allow her to remain alone, 
 mother ? You don't mean that ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dennis shook her head despairingly. 
 
 " What could we do ? If you had seen her ! 
 And they call women weak ! During the 
 whole of the time you have been lying here 
 her ' boy ' has never been off the veranda 
 steps for an hour at a time. There is some- 
 thing she wants cleared up, and only you can 
 help her." 
 
 " Yes, I can help her," he muttered 
 vacantly, passing his hands over his eyes to 
 collect his thoughts. 
 
 After a while he asked if she had called in 
 person during his illness, and the knowledge 
 that she had seemed to brighten him.
 
 LOVE AND DUTY 247 
 
 " And I hardly knew her, Grahamy. Even 
 in the midst of my own grief her poor white 
 face wrung my heart. She has borne it all 
 with a bravery that none can understand, and 
 those who thought her callous had their 
 answer the morning after her brother's death. 
 Your father and the police superintendent 
 went up to Agra Nook to make inquiries. 
 The * boys ' were not about, and as they 
 could not get a reply to their knocking, they 
 entered by the dining-room window, which 
 had been left unshuttered. They found her 
 in a dead swoon by the side of her brother, 
 and holding his cold hand so tightly that 
 they could scarcely release it." 
 
 " Poor Charlotte ! " He turned his face 
 away. " I suppose — suppose," he said falter- 
 ingly, as though he feared the answer, " I 
 suppose she will return to Europe ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dennis leaned over the bed and looked 
 into his eyes. 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so," she replied. " You 
 would like to see her before she goes ? " 
 
 He took his mother's face between his hands 
 and kissed her fondly. " Well ? " he queried. 
 
 " She is here," said Mrs. Dennis, smiling 
 back at him ; " she has been here two hours, 
 awaiting your pleasure." He closed his eyes
 
 248 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 in a smile of contentment. She stopped and 
 kissed his twitching Hps and left the room. 
 He counted her receding footsteps as a sick 
 child counts the flowers on a papered wall. He 
 heard her whispered words at the foot of the 
 stairs, and then another footfall that quick- 
 ened the blood in his veins. 
 
 " Grahamy boy ! " She had stolen into the 
 room so quietly that he was not aware of her 
 presence until he felt her soft, warm hand in 
 his. And when he opened his eyes and found 
 her kneeling by his bedside, the sombre hue of 
 mourning intensifying the pallor and sadness 
 of her face, he could only stretch out his arms 
 with a feeble, choking cry of " Charlotte ! 
 Charlotte ! " 
 
 For a while they remained without another 
 word being spoken . Then she gently smoothed 
 the hair back from his brow, and " You knew 
 that I would come, Grahamy ? " she said. 
 
 " Yes, I knew," he replied, drawing her face 
 down to his. 
 
 " And you forgive me, boy ? " 
 
 " Forgive you ? " For a moment his face 
 clouded in perplexity. " Ah, yes," he said, 
 as his memory cleared. " I played the 
 coward. Poor little woman ! How you must 
 have despised me ! "
 
 LOVE AND DUTY 249 
 
 "No, not that word, Grahamy ; only " 
 
 " I know, I know ; but I was jealous, 
 Charlotte — mad with jealousy and doubt." 
 
 " There was no ground for jealousy," she 
 whispered. 
 
 " You forget," he reminded her. " I did 
 not know that the Maj — that he was your 
 brother ; nor had I the slightest suspicion 
 that you " 
 
 " That I was a spy ? " There was boldness 
 in her voice that made him wince, but the 
 ring of defiance was forced and unnatural. 
 She saw the pained look in his eyes and hung 
 her head. 
 
 " What do you think of me now ? " she 
 asked in a broken voice. " Don't you despise 
 me?" 
 
 He caught her arm and drew her face to the 
 pillow again. " Despise you ? " he whispered 
 huskily. " Yes, see — he kissed her again and 
 again — " see," he laughed ecstatically, " see 
 how I despise you ! " She suffered herself 
 to lie there in his embrace, and when his 
 energy had exhausted itself she leaned over 
 and kissed him with equal warmth. 
 
 " You will let me tell you now, Graham ? 
 It is not a long story, and when you have 
 heard it you will understand. He was my only
 
 250 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 brother, and when our father died he cared for 
 me as no one else in the world could have 
 done. He held a commission in one of the 
 most fashionable regiments of the French 
 army. In the quietude of our little home 
 on the outskirts of the Bois de Boulogne he 
 gave himself up to a deep and careful study 
 of military tactics, defence-works, and the 
 pregnability of foreign seaboards. Although 
 he had resigned his commission, the military 
 authorities never hesitated to seek his assist- 
 ance in the elucidation of foreign manoeuvres 
 or the counteracting of strategical moves on 
 the part of other countries. 
 
 " Then trouble intervened — desperate 
 trouble. He was found guilty of the crime 
 of a brother officer, who had killed himself 
 at the moment of exposure. He had no 
 proof, though he was utterly innocent. All 
 the evidence was against him. My brother 
 was cashiered — disgraced. 
 
 " Soon after, financial troubles followed — 
 the last straw. He was compelled to take 
 service again, this time in the Secret Intelli- 
 gence Department of a foreign power. He 
 stipulated only that he should never be 
 required to undertake work against the 
 interests of France — the country both of us
 
 LOVE AND DUTY 251 
 
 loved still. But why should we care about 
 your country ? 
 
 " He had imbued me with a keen interest in 
 his work, and when he was ordered abroad 
 the assistance that I could render him was 
 obvious to both of us. I loved the work for 
 the work's sake and the fact that he loved 
 me. It mattered not to me what the world 
 might say, even if the world discovered my 
 avocation. In all that I did I served my 
 brother because of the love I bore him and 
 the love he cherished for me. I served no 
 Government — only him. Do you under- 
 stand ? " 
 
 " Yes, I understand," he replied ; and then 
 in a low voice he told her all that had hap- 
 pened on that fateful night. She sobbed 
 gently as he told her, but when he would have 
 stayed the narrative she urged him to tell 
 her all. 
 
 " It was suicide," he whispered, " and yet 
 it was something more. There is such a thing 
 as suicide by suggestion. That is how your 
 brother died. I would have ridiculed the idea 
 before of a man possessing such power over 
 another, but I know now. If you had seen 
 Krishna's eyes as I saw them that night you 
 would understand."
 
 252 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 She shivered at the mention of the name 
 and crept closer to him. 
 
 " I do understand," she said, and proceeded 
 to tell him of Krishna's visit to Agra 
 Nook. 
 
 " Great heavens ! " he burst out, as he 
 listened to her story, " what does it all 
 portend ? Charlotte, I believe that there is 
 something terrible on foot. I have friends 
 in the Service. Don't you think that we 
 should seek their advice ? " 
 
 " Graham " — she was trembling violently 
 — " you forget that I— that " 
 
 He caught his breath and drew her to him 
 protectingly. 
 
 " You need not fear, sweetheart. Trust me 
 — that is all I ask." 
 
 " But the plans, Graham ? He — Krishna — 
 has them. He threatened me with them." 
 
 " Forget that they existed, darling." He 
 smiled. 
 
 With a cry of joy she clutched his arm. 
 " You — you have them, Graham ? " 
 
 He shook his head. " No ; I suppose he 
 has them, and he's welcome to them. Come," 
 he cried, laughing at her rueful countenance, 
 " can you not trust me ? It will soon be 
 cleared up, and when the clouds have passed
 
 LOVE AND DUTY 253 
 
 we will go away together, little woman, you 
 and I. Eh ? " 
 
 " Together, Grahamy boy," she whispered 
 gladly. 
 
 Mrs. Dennis came into the room, and, with 
 her customary tact, saw nothing that it was 
 intended she should not see. 
 
 " Captain Fortescue from the fort has 
 called to see you, Graham, if you are — not 
 too busy." 
 
 Charlotte started up with a cry of alarm, 
 but Graham put his arm about her and 
 whispered a word of encouragement. 
 
 " We will see him at once, mother," he 
 said.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 MILITARY ACTIVITY 
 
 IN his embarrassment Captain Fortescue 
 halted on the threshold and pulled the 
 ends of his moustache with painful vigour. 
 He glanced appealingly at Graham. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he stammered, " but 
 I did not gather from Mrs. Dennis that " 
 
 " Pray, do not apologize," said Graham 
 quickly. " Will you allow me ? Charlotte, 
 this is Captain Fortescue, commanding Fort 
 
 T . Captain, Miss Bressane, of Agra Nook, 
 
 of whom, perhaps, you have heard." 
 
 The Captain lifted his eyebrows and turned 
 a searching glance on Charlotte. " I have 
 already been to Agra Nook this morning," he 
 said, watching her narrowly. Graham felt her 
 tremble, and pressed her fingers reassuringly. 
 
 "And you drew a blanks of course," she 
 smiled. 
 
 " Of course," he repeated mechanically. 
 
 " You need not hesitate, Captain," Graham 
 put in, perceiving his dilemma ; " what con- 
 cerns Miss Bressane equally concerns me." 
 
 " Indeed ! " The Captain moved uneasily 
 in his chair. " I am afraid that I am denied 
 the pleasure of congratulating you," he said 
 apologetically, " inasmuch as my visit is one 
 
 254
 
 MILITARY ACTIVITY 255 
 
 of, well — er — investigation, and congratula- 
 tions might savour of irony." 
 
 " Go on," said Graham quietly. 
 
 The Captain stumbled. " But your health, 
 Mr. Dennis ? " he protested. " I confess that 
 I came here on the heels of Miss Bressane. 
 Perhaps she would not object to my speaking 
 with her in private." 
 
 "I'm afraid that I should," Graham 
 laughed. " We have no secrets from each 
 other — now, and I assure you that you need 
 have no fears on my account. I shouldn't be 
 lying here only — well, it's comfortable." 
 
 The Captain bowed gravely. 
 
 " The fact of the matter is that a some- 
 what important despatch has reached me 
 from the Commander-in-Chief. The matter 
 is an exceedingly delicate one, and I decided 
 to make the preliminary inquiries myself, 
 rather than trust the work to a subordinate. 
 It may be that the Chief is pursuing a myth. 
 If it is so, the less publicity given to it the 
 better for all concerned. The despatch has 
 reference to the late Major Skew, the brother, 
 I understand, of " And he bowed sympa- 
 thetically to Charlotte. " It appears that an 
 anonymous communication reached head- 
 quarters, and "
 
 256 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " Ah, I understand," Graham interrupted. 
 " I think that I can simphfy your investiga- 
 tions. Captain. Briefly, the despatch has 
 reference to the work which the late Major 
 Skew — or, rather, Moniseur Fehx Pericard — 
 carried on during his residence in India. The 
 Commander-in-Chief has been warned that 
 plans of certain fortifications were in the 
 possession of Monsieur Pericard, and that 
 this lady, his sister, was instrumental to an 
 extent in obtaining those plans. Am I 
 right ? " 
 
 " Your knowledge of the facts astounds 
 me," the Captain confessed. 
 
 " I do not doubt it," said Graham dryly, 
 " and I think that I shall astound you even 
 more before you leave. May I inquire what 
 steps you intend to take in the matter ? " 
 
 " Are they not obvious ? " 
 
 " In nowise. No doubt one less experienced 
 than yourself would have premeditated the 
 arrest of Miss Bressane, but the futility of such 
 a proceeding must be patent to your mind. 
 What charge could you bring against this 
 lady, and if you arrested her what evidence 
 of espionage is likely to be forthcoming ? " 
 
 The Captain frowned. 
 
 " We have proof," he ventured at random,
 
 MILITARY ACTIVITY 257 
 
 " that plans of these fortifications are actually 
 in existence, and the area of their circulation 
 has been narrowed down. You are an English- 
 man, and perhaps this will suggest to your 
 mind what it will mean if those plans get into 
 the hands of another Power, no matter what 
 the attitude of that Power towards Great 
 Britain at the present moment." 
 
 He handed Graham a copy of the Courier. 
 
 " I quite appreciate your position. Captain," 
 said Graham, handing the paper back to him. 
 " // those plans are in existence, there is an 
 anxious time in store for the Captains com- 
 manding and the officers attached to those 
 particular forts ; but if they are not in 
 existence, how then ? " 
 
 The Captain was leaning forward, his lips 
 parted in astonishment. 
 
 " You could acquaint the Commander-in- 
 Chief," Graham went on, " that your investi- 
 gations had revealed the fact that M. Pericard 
 was dead. The only other person upon whom 
 a breath of suspicion could rest will shortly 
 become my wife, and before another month 
 has elapsed she will be on her way to England 
 with me. Captain Fortescue, I can give you 
 my word as an Englishman — an Englishman 
 whose love for the dignity and welfare of his
 
 258 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 country is not less than your own — that, 
 although detailed plans of ten of the most 
 important fortifications in this country were 
 actually obtained under the noses of British 
 officers, they do not exist to-day." 
 
 The Captain stared incredulously, and a 
 faint cry of relief broke from Charlotte's lips. 
 
 " But how — how can you prove it ? " the 
 Captain stammered. 
 
 " I will tell you," said Graham ; and for the 
 second time that day he related the incidents 
 of his adventure in the house of Kuppuswamy, 
 and the finding of Monsieur Pericard's dead 
 body and the original plans. 
 
 " And because I am an Englishman," he 
 concluded warmly, " and because I love my 
 country, I destroyed them while I had 
 strength. There are two other sets of plans 
 in existence, but they are of less value than 
 the paper on which they are drawn. Now, 
 are you satisfied, Captain ? " 
 
 " Yes, thank God ! " was the fervent reply. 
 " You may not be a soldier, sir, but — but, by 
 heavens ! you ought to be." 
 
 And having paid what he honestly believed 
 to be the greatest compliment that could be 
 paid to a civilian, he reached over and gripped 
 Graham's hand.
 
 MILITARY ACTIVITY 259 
 
 " But, Captain " — Graham lowered his 
 voice — " if one danger is averted there is 
 another, and a more serious, that must be 
 grappled with at once. From what I have 
 told you of this midnight conference there 
 can be no doubt in your mind that some deep 
 scheme is being hatched by this emissary of 
 the Neon Government and certain native 
 agitators, including Krishna, the foster-son 
 of Kuppuswamy, for whom I cherished affec- 
 tion born of admiration. His genius would 
 have compelled the admiration of any man, 
 no matter what his nationality. What this 
 scheme is I have not the slightest idea, but we 
 stand a good chance of finding out if we work 
 quickly and without making public the 
 information that we already possess. Cimea 
 is the man who must be detained without 
 delay. Do you agree ? " 
 
 Captain Fortescue hesitated, but the 
 natural repugnancy to enlisting the aid of a 
 civilian in any undertaking lingered only a 
 moment. 
 
 " I agree," he said, " and I need not say 
 how much your assistance will be appreciated. 
 Cimea must be found, and I will give instruc- 
 tions for an officer at once to wait upon him 
 at his hotel. Oh yes, I know the man, and
 
 26o THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 from what I learned this morning he is still in 
 the city, I am placing complete reliance on 
 your story, and whatever the responsibility 
 in arresting the subject of a friendly Power 
 merely on suspicion, I'm willing to take 
 it." 
 
 " You will confront him with me ? " 
 
 " It will be necessary, and if you are unable 
 to leave your bed " 
 
 " Leave my bed ! Ye gods ! Arrest him. 
 Captain, and, that done, you will find me 
 ready. Why ! I feel as strong as a tub of 
 ammonia." 
 
 The Captain turned to Charlotte. 
 
 " Adieu," he said gallantly. " I cannot 
 express the pleasure I feel at having been 
 relieved of a painful duty. When you have 
 lived in England only a little while, you will 
 understand the pride and loyalty of those 
 who can rightly claim it as their native land. 
 And you will find, as I have found, that, 
 although beyond the belt of water that washes 
 its seaboard it is maligned and ridiculed with 
 impunity, there is not a dearer nor a sweeter 
 little island in the whole wide world." 
 
 And with a sharp jerk of his iron-grey head 
 and a perceptible quiver of the stern, straight 
 lips, he turned and left.
 
 MILITARY ACTIVITY 261 
 
 An hour later an orderly brought the follow- 
 ing note to Graham : 
 
 " C. disappeared ; also K. If able, come to 
 fort at four. 
 
 " R. Fr
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE TREASURE OF THE DEAD 
 
 WHEN Graham arrived at the fort, he 
 found Captain Fortescue deeply en- 
 grossed in a railway time-table. His friend 
 Captain Grierson was walking about the room 
 relating some episode in which the " Flagrante 
 delicto," " devilish luck," supplied Graham 
 with the context, for he was familiar with the 
 reputation of the military Lothario. Both 
 officers were in mufti. 
 
 " The birds have flown ! " Fortescue cried, 
 looking up from the time-table and kicking a 
 rattan chair in Graham's direction ; " but 
 your friend the Count left something useful 
 in his cage. Look at this — picked it up in his 
 room at the Visitors'." 
 
 " This " was an ordinary Tourists' Guide to 
 Places of Interest in India. The book opened 
 at the " M's," the corner of the page having 
 been turned down. The town of Mercara, 
 Coorg, had evidently interested the reader, 
 for down the margin ran a line of ink dots, 
 suggesting that, pen in hand, he had checked 
 each line as he read. 
 
 " Well, do you gather anything from that ?" 
 Fortescue queried. " If you don't, perhaps 
 this scrap of paper, found in the fireplace, 
 
 262
 
 TREASURE OF THE DEAD 263 
 
 will assist you further." Graham took the 
 paper and examined it with a perplexed look 
 on his face. It seemed to him that someone 
 had been working out a mathematical 
 problem, and an ink smudge where the pen 
 had stuck in the rough fibre doubtless 
 accounted for the careless rejection of the 
 paper. 
 
 " Did you ascertain when the Count left the 
 city ? " asked Graham, looking up. 
 
 " He settled his chits at nine o'clock this 
 morning, and gave orders for his traps to be 
 sent down to the Neon Shipping Agency." 
 
 " And Krishna ? " 
 
 " Heaven only knows ! The old fellow 
 Kuppuswamy has been in communication 
 with his gods for a couple of days — so his 
 ' boys ' tell me — but they don't appear to 
 have told him much." 
 
 " I think I grasp the turn events have 
 taken," said Graham, turning his attention 
 again to the scrap of paper. 
 
 " Fairly obvious to me," said Fortescue 
 airily, " after the treasure-trove yarn you 
 related this morning. Let's hear your theory 
 — see if it coincides with mine." 
 
 " Whatever the scheme, the Count's in- 
 terest in it has evaporated ? "
 
 264 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 " Correct. Go on," 
 
 " He is only human, and avarice is natural 
 to all of us ? " 
 
 The Captain nodded. 
 
 " And having solved to his satisfaction the 
 riddle of the cryptogram, with the assistance, 
 of course, of the clues supplied at the confer- 
 ence, he is now on his way to Mercara 
 to prove his higher intellectuality by 
 taking over the Chancellorship of the 
 Exchequer ? " 
 
 " Grierson," said Fortescue severely, "never 
 let me hear you speak a word in disparage- 
 ment of a civilian's comprehension. Mr. 
 Dennis, if you have not already had the mis- 
 fortune to meet him, this is Captain Grierson, 
 of the Royals. He is fully acquainted with 
 the details of the undertaking we have on 
 hand, and his services will be indispensable. 
 What he doesn't know of Hindustani is 
 spoken only by a Tamil coolie whose morals 
 have been corrupted by your English planters. 
 By the way, Mr. Dennis, are you prepared 
 for the journey to Mercara ? The sooner we 
 deal with this matter the better. The Count 
 must be run to earth, and his arrest will, I 
 think, burst the bubble that is worrying us 
 a little."
 
 TREASURE OF THE DEAD 265 
 
 " Quite ready, Captain," Graham smiled, 
 " and at your service." 
 
 " Very well, gentlemen ; we'll get away to 
 Mercara, and on the way down we can wrestle 
 with the clues." 
 
 A telegram was despatched to a friend of 
 Grierson's, advising him of the time of their 
 expected arrival at Mysore, and requesting the 
 loan of his car to take them over the remaining 
 seventy-five miles to Mercara. 
 
 " Grierson, you know the district of Mercara 
 fairly well, I believe ? " 
 
 Grierson had stretched himself on the 
 carriage-seat, and was lazily working out the 
 chances of the various entries for the Viceroy's 
 Cup. He glanced reproachfully at Fortescue. 
 
 " Please don't recall things that are better 
 forgotten," he pleaded. " I was as green as a 
 dock-leaf, and she — well, you know what she 
 was." 
 
 " My dear Grierson, your thoughts seem to 
 run in only one groove. I want to know some- 
 thing of the geography of the place. I've 
 never been there in my life ; neither has 
 Dennis." 
 
 " Sorry ! Where are you stuck ? " 
 
 Fortescue handed over the written words 
 that Graham had heard fall from the lips of
 
 266 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 poor Lakshmi. " If there's anything in it," 
 he added, " the thing must be as simple 
 as dayhght to anyone who knows the 
 district." 
 
 Grierson took the paper and read it again 
 and again. " Yes," he drawled, in a bored 
 tone, " the thing's too damned simple, and I 
 warn you, ' Forty,' that if you've brought me 
 down on a fool's errand, knowing the risks I 
 run in certain quarters, you'll never hear the 
 last of it." 
 
 " Translate it, Diogenes, and don't wash 
 your linen in a railway-carriage. You don't 
 suppose we've come down here to look for 
 treasure, do you ? We've come to look for 
 the man who's looking for it." 
 
 " I'll sketch the thing out for you, if you 
 like. Lend me your pencil. See, here is the 
 old fort, now converted into Government 
 offices ; in the foreground are the tennis- 
 courts. (Gad ! I can see her now, with eyes 
 as big as moons, and a mouth no man could 
 resist.) Now, right in front of the tennis- 
 courts is the Rajah's palace, also converted 
 to better uses in the interests of the Com- 
 missioner." 
 
 " And the tomb ? " 
 
 " Um, the tomb ? Now, where the devil is
 
 TREASURE OF THE DEAD 267 
 
 the tomb ? Don't remember the Commis- 
 sioner using anything of the sort as a stable ; 
 in fact, I don't think you'll find anything like 
 one in his grounds. Of course, there's the 
 Gadiga, the tombs of the ancient Rajahs — 
 two buildings, and they're at the extreme end 
 of the main bazaar. Um, no, I can't go any 
 farther from memory. We may pick up a 
 few landmarks when we get there. Mean- 
 while, we'll have a nap." And he spread his 
 sporting paper over his face and slept peace- 
 fully. 
 
 They reached Mysore at sundown, after 
 what had seemed to Graham an endless 
 journey. Grierson's friend proved his friend- 
 ship by sending his native chauffeur to the 
 station with his car. They sent the chauffeur 
 into the town with a ten-rupee note in his 
 pocket, telling him to be at the station the 
 next morning and await their return. Grier- 
 son, who once upon a time had endangered 
 the life of every living thing in the neighbour- 
 hood of Mayfair with his knowledge of driving, 
 undertook the duties of chauffeur. 
 
 They reached the outskirts of Mercara by a 
 miracle, and leaving the car in the bullock- 
 shed of a native farmer, whom Grierson 
 terrified into allegiance by a string of awful
 
 268 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 threats in Hindustani, they proceeded on foot 
 in the direction of the fort. 
 
 The darkness was unusually intense, and 
 the valley mists hung around the hill-top 
 town like a white mantle. In the lowlands 
 twinkled the ryots' cocoanut-oil lamps, like 
 so many fireflies on a marsh. Grierson led the 
 way. His amours of the past had not been so 
 lightly forgotten as he would have had his 
 intimates believe. He picked his way through 
 rice-paddy and plantation with the sureness 
 of a mountain mule, swearing softly to him- 
 self the while for being " fooled into the hunt." 
 They might have been phantoms crossing the 
 graveyard of a Roman host. Beyond the 
 burning wicks of the ryots' lamps there was not 
 a sign to remind them that they were in the 
 land of a living people. 
 
 When they reached the Commissioner's 
 house it was in darkness, and in the grounds 
 could be heard only the lazy drone of insect 
 Hfe. 
 
 " ' Forty,' " Grierson whispered, " have 
 you ever spent a holiday in the Morgue ? By 
 Jove I you have a genius for arranging inter- 
 esting trips. Dennis, do you see anything 
 in the shape of a tomb ? I'm hanged if I 
 can."
 
 TREASURE OF THE DEAD 269 
 
 " Let's try the Gadiga," Graham suggested. 
 " If Cimea came down to Mercara, you may be 
 sure that he's been in the locaHty, and we 
 know quite well that he can't clear out before 
 morning. It's not likely that he'll go back to 
 Mysore to-night, and even if he should do so, 
 Mysore isn't Charing Cross." 
 
 " We'll try the tombs, Grierson," said 
 Fortescue peremptorily ; " and for Heaven's 
 sake keep out of those rice-paddies. I smell 
 like a polecat already." 
 
 Grierson stepped out with a grunt, and 
 in a short while the gloomy piles loomed up 
 through the darkness. Suddenly the leader 
 stopped, stepped back, and clutched Graham's 
 arm. 
 
 " Do you see anything ? " he whispered, 
 pointing in the direction of a low-lying man- 
 grove-clump to the east of the tombs. The 
 dark figure of a man was moving stealthily 
 towards the buildings. 
 
 " It's a nig," said Grierson in a whisper ; 
 " you can tell by the stoop of the shoulders ; 
 but he's not wearing dhoti, or he'd move 
 faster and bend lower." 
 
 " A ryot ? " Fortescue suggested. 
 
 Grierson shook his head doubtfully. " A 
 ryot doesn't pay night visits to old tombs.
 
 270 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 He's generally too busy frightening away the 
 devil at home. But keep quiet and give this 
 fellow his head ; he'll finish somewhere." 
 
 They crouched in the undergrowth and 
 waited. Unsuspectingly, the figure passed 
 within ten yards of the three, and the single 
 glance they obtained of him as he passed 
 confirmed Grierson's assertion that he was a 
 native. The darkness enwrapped him before 
 he reached the tombs, so they were left in 
 doubt that he was actually going there. 
 
 The doubt was soon dispelled. Scarcely 
 ten minutes had elapsed when an awful nerve- 
 rending scream broke through the stillness of 
 night, and went echoing and re-echoing round 
 the silent hills, until it died away in a plaintive 
 wail of agony. 
 
 " Come on ! " cried Grierson, springing to 
 his feet, his whole frame quivering with excite- 
 ment at the prospect of immediate adventure. 
 They raced across the intervening space to 
 the dark, forbidding, bat -haunted Valhalla of 
 ancient India's dead. 
 
 Grierson was the first to enter, and he 
 started back with a low cry of amazement. 
 For a moment Graham could not distinguish 
 a single object, but a sickening, musty odour 
 of things long dead assailed his nostrils and
 
 TREASURE OF THE DEAD 271 
 
 prevented his breathing freely. Then the 
 blackness softened to his vision, and he made 
 out the sombre, mouldy tombs, standing in 
 irregular lines, like secret treasure-chests of 
 the dead. 
 
 " What is that ? " It was Grierson who 
 spoke, but his voice was so strained that 
 Graham could hardly recognize it. 
 
 The covering slab of one of the tombs at the 
 extreme end of the building had been moved 
 out of the square of the uprights, and through 
 an aperture scarcely wide enough to admit 
 the body of a man of average girth a faint 
 white light streamed. 
 
 " Go on," Fortescue whispered hoarsely, 
 moving forward. 
 
 Graham followed, with his revolver drawn. 
 Grierson stumbled over a broken urn and 
 barked his shins against the projecting 
 masonry of a vault. His hearty expletive 
 relieved the tension on their nerves. They 
 stopped dead to await any response to the 
 noise, but none came, and they crept nearer 
 to the open tomb. Simultaneously they 
 peered over the edge, and simultaneously a 
 cry of horror broke from their lips. 
 
 A short flight of roughly-hewn steps led to 
 the floor of the vault, which was nine or
 
 272 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 ten feet square. On a low dais against the 
 eastern wall was a sarcophagus, newly opened, 
 the gruesome relics of the dead having been 
 ruthlessly disturbed by sacrilegious hands. 
 Lying across the stone coffin, the face turned 
 upwards and horror staring out of the narrow, 
 glassy eyes, was the man they knew as Count 
 Cimea ! From their position they could not 
 determine the manner of his death, but the 
 mystery of the white light that streamed 
 from his breast was easily explained by 
 Graham. In the agonies of dying the man 
 had clutched at his chest and gripped the tiny 
 battery that fed the electric scarf-pin used, 
 Graham recollected with a shudder, the night 
 Monsieur Pericard's desk was rifled. 
 
 A few feet away, and lying prone on his 
 face, his arms doubled up beneath his body, 
 was a native in European dress, doubtless the 
 one they had seen stealing towards the tombs. 
 The carved hilt of a knife protruded from 
 his shoulders. 
 
 Fortescue climbed through the aperture, 
 closely followed by the others. Ignoring the 
 body of the native, he made for that of the 
 Count, and had actually stretched out his 
 hand with the intention of dra\ving the body 
 to the floor, when a hoarse whisper of " Don't
 
 TREASURE OF THE DEAD 273 
 
 move, for God's sake ! " held him motionless. 
 A second later and the loud report of a 
 revolver-shot brought down a cloud of stifling 
 dust on their heads. 
 
 " Thanks ! " said Fortescue simply, turn- 
 ing and giving Graham's hand a wring. His 
 cheeks were white and he was breathing 
 hard. 
 
 " A ripping shot in a bad Hght," said 
 Grierson critically, bending over the sarco- 
 phagus and lifting up gingerly the grim 
 white-hooded snake, the head of which had 
 been shattered by the revolver-shot. 
 
 " Whew ! " Fortescue whistled, " a deuced 
 near thing. I've laughed at the yarns of the 
 nulla pambu guarding the treasure of the dead, 
 but See! look -here!" 
 
 He pointed to the throat of the dead Count, 
 where a small dark bruise no larger than a 
 shilling appeared. 
 
 " Search him," said the practical Grierson. 
 
 Only a sheet of paper, containing the 
 cryptic message with which they were already 
 acquainted, was found in the pockets, and on 
 the reverse side was a carefully executed plan 
 of the tombs and a rough survey of the sur- 
 rounding district. 
 
 " Turn the other fellow over, Dennis, if
 
 274 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 you've no objection," said Grierson, adding 
 apologetically : "I never touch the beggars, 
 on principle." 
 
 With a quick movement Graham turned the 
 body face upwards. 
 
 " Why this is Rhandi," he exclaimed — 
 " one of the Hindus I told you about. Captain." 
 
 " The mystery is fizzling out," said 
 Fortescue. " The Neon fellow, as I theorized, 
 played the traitor and came here after the 
 treasure " 
 
 " Which amounts to a pile of bones," 
 Grierson interposed. 
 
 " And the native played the spy and came 
 after him. Neon got in the first blow, and the 
 gentleman in the white hood got the second. 
 By Jove ! didn't the beggar yell ? Well, 
 Dennis, the night's adventure is at an end." 
 
 " No, Captain, not at an end — far from it. 
 See ! " 
 
 Graham had seized the hands of the dead 
 native, and tore them away from the open 
 clothing into which he had tried to thrust 
 them even in the agonies of dying. Each 
 hand grasped a sheaf of dark, dried palm- 
 leaves. 
 
 " The secret scheme ? " 
 
 Fortescue asked the question in a whisper.
 
 TREASURE OF THE DEAD 275 
 
 Graham, in his excitement, could only nod 
 and beckon to him to bring the human torch 
 nearer. Quickly he prised open the fingers, 
 already stiffening in death, and handed the 
 mysterious leaves to Grierson. 
 
 " You can read them ? " he queried fever- 
 ishly. 
 
 Grierson held them up to the light with the 
 idle curiosity of a curio-hunter. 
 
 " Simple enough," he muttered — " only an 
 old form of letter-writing. This one relates to 
 — to — to the will . . . of . . . Silva. . . . 
 Um, it talks about the wealth of generations. 
 . . . Curse the light ! " 
 
 " The other — read the other," cried 
 Graham, unable to control himself. " That 
 refers to the treasure which we know now 
 to be a myth." 
 
 Grierson held the other leaves up to the 
 light and examined them carefully. Presently 
 his air of indifference vanished, and horror 
 was depicted in every line of his face. 
 
 " My God ! " he gasped, " this is awful— 
 de\dlish." 
 
 " Read it — read it, man ! " cried Fortescue 
 angrily. 
 
 And there in the eerie stillness of the house 
 of the dead, his voice hollow and dry and
 
 276 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 unnatural, Captain Grierson read aloud the 
 following terrible message, addressed to " The 
 Brave Hearts of India " : 
 
 " Brothers in bondage, slaves of the tyrannous 
 West, the days of your servitude are ended. No 
 longer shall ye writhe in agony beneath the heel 
 of the oppressor. For the strength that is 
 given ye shall be wielded in defence of your 
 homes and your women and your children. Is 
 it not written that the East shall rise again from 
 the ashes of its past greatness, and cover the 
 earth as our mighty rivers in flood-time ? Too 
 long have ye cringed, submissive, before the 
 whips of the weaker. The brave hearts that 
 struck for your deliverance when ye men of to- 
 day were in childhood call to ye from the tomb to 
 strike again. 
 
 "And ye shall strike — the weak with the 
 strong — for the woes of your women will knit 
 your sinews, and the cries of your starving 
 offspring strengthen your hearts and pale the 
 fear of death. For one has arisen from among 
 ye who will lead ye unscathed through the blood 
 and smoke of battle to the heaven that awaits 
 the faithfid. When the time is ripe his voice 
 will roll through the land as the thunder rolls 
 in the hollow of the hills, and ye shall gird on
 
 TREASURE OF THE DEAD 277 
 
 your steel and go forth like men to cast off for 
 ever the hateful yoke of the tyrants. 
 
 " Fear not the guns of your compatriots, 
 though turned upon ye from the forts of the 
 enemy. Fear not their shining steel when in 
 battle array they come upon ye as the beasts of 
 the Western Ghats on the helpless fawns. For 
 their guns will be as playthings and their steel 
 as reed. The worldly wealth of many genera- 
 tions hath provided for it. He who has risen 
 will pay the price. He knows where the wealth 
 lies hidden. Mark well the positions in the 
 fight that have been allotted ye, and flinch not 
 when ye hear his voice. Let those whose blood is 
 thin stand aside for those who fear not. Strike 
 hard and sicken not like women when the rivers 
 flow red. For all must die. So it is written, 
 and ye dare not defy your gods. They will be 
 with ye, and those who fall will fall with the 
 light of immortality in their eyes. 
 
 "And it is written that if he who has been 
 Chosen shall so will it another nation may cross 
 the waters of the world and stand by ye in the 
 field, counselling ye with their unfettered learn- 
 ing, cheering ye with the wondrous tale of 
 freedom they have won. 
 
 "And here are the plans of battle that the 
 wise dead prepared for ye. Mark them well and
 
 278 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 not one person can escape your vengeance. In 
 their graves the dead will listen for the clash of 
 your steel, and chant with ye in the hour of your 
 victory. Await his voice. The eyes of the dead 
 are upon ye," 
 
 As Grierson uttered the last word the leaves 
 fluttered to the floor of the vault. The faces 
 of the three were bloodless. 
 
 " Great heavens ! " Fortescue muttered ; 
 " another Mutiny ! " 
 
 Grierson was the first to pull himself to- 
 gether, and, picking up the leaves, he placed 
 them in his wallet. 
 
 " A lot of damned twaddle ! " he growled — 
 " written by a fanatic for fanatics, but quite 
 sufficient to cause trouble." 
 
 Graham pointed to the body of Rhandi. 
 
 " How did he become possessed of them, I 
 wonder ? I remember how jealously Krishna 
 guarded them." 
 
 " He looted them, no doubt," said Fort- 
 escue, spurning the body with his foot, " and 
 came on the same errand as that other 
 scoundrel." 
 
 " And when Krishna discovers his loss ? " 
 
 " He will realize his danger and go to 
 ground like a fox."
 
 TREASURE OF THE DEAD 279 
 
 " And he may strike in desperation if there 
 is a semblance of truth in that thing, and the 
 native troops have been worked upon by the 
 sedition-mongers. There is not a moment to 
 lose." 
 
 " We'll get back without delay," said 
 Fortescue decisively, " and I'll wire to head- 
 quarters from Mysore." 
 
 When they reached Mysore a telegram from 
 Major Blayton awaited Captain Fortescue : 
 
 " Return at once. City natives in open 
 rebellion, led by fanatic named Krishna, said 
 to be medical student." 
 
 And the reply that Fortescue sent ran : 
 
 " Keep all native officers under strict sur- 
 veillance and quell disturbance at any cost. 
 Inform headquarters have discovered second 
 Mutiny plot, but cannot say how far it has 
 spread."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE FATE OF KRISHNA 
 
 THE city was in tumult, the additional 
 terror of darkness approaching. It was 
 the second night of the rising. From the 
 native quarter came a low ominous roar, 
 like the booming of the surf on a bleak and 
 broken coast. In a dozen places the blood-red 
 glare of fire shot upwards to the heavens to 
 the accompaniment of frenzied yells from the 
 horde that had broken loose. Howling and 
 shrieking, like beasts in mortal agony, they 
 surged through the narrow streets, the 
 mounted police behind, all grime and sweat 
 and bespattered with blood ; in front, the 
 sunburnt garrison artillery, like a line of rocks, 
 against which an ocean of revolt might beat 
 itself to pieces. 
 
 " Death to the tyrants ! Blood for blood ! " 
 The cry rose and fell and rose again, like the 
 howl of hungry wolves. 
 
 A squad of police had galloped round the 
 European residences : 
 
 " Keep within your doors : the natives 
 have risen ! " 
 
 And doors were barred and windows shut- 
 tered. White-faced men gathered their 
 families together, and, while whispering 
 
 280
 
 THE FATE OF KRISHNA 281 
 
 assurances that the miUtary would soon quell 
 the rising, quietly slipped weapons into 
 their pockets. 
 
 Graham Dennis had reached home, and 
 Charlotte, who abandoned her bungalow at 
 the first warning of the outbreak, had sought 
 refuge in the Slaney-Dennis house. From the 
 balcony they commanded a view of the city 
 beneath, and the hoarse cries of the struggling 
 masses floated up to them on the tongue of 
 every breeze. 
 
 An orderly from the fort dashed past the 
 house. 
 
 " What news ? " Graham shouted. 
 
 " Bad ! " he yelled back. " Hindus have 
 joined hands with Mohammedans. The Forty- 
 Second's turning out." 
 
 A moment later Major Blayton, at the 
 head of fifty troopers, went by at the 
 gallop. 
 
 " Do you think the rising is general, 
 Graham ? " 
 
 Charlotte was clinging to him, and as the 
 screams of the wounded rioters followed the 
 rattle of the rifle-fire, he could feel her 
 trembling. ^ 
 
 " No, sweetheart," he whispered — " only 
 local. All other towns have reported ' quiet.'
 
 282 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 The plot, if plot there really was, has been 
 nipped in the bud." 
 
 "And Krishna? " 
 
 " Ah, I wonder ! The treachery of the 
 other two must have broken his heart. Per- 
 haps, when he heard of it, he determined to 
 strike whatever blow he could." 
 
 " Then you think this rising owes its incep- 
 tion to his exhortations ?" 
 
 " I wish I could think otherwise. He is 
 only one of a band of fanatics, but he is the 
 most dangerous." 
 
 " And the other — Cimea ? " 
 
 " That danger is shelved, at least. God 
 grant that it will be a warning to the most 
 dangerous of all fanatics — the untravelled 
 politician at home, who would form an 
 alliance with the devil if he donned a martyr's 
 crown." 
 
 " Ugh ! It is terrible ! Hark ! " 
 
 Another volley, followed by groans and 
 howls and shrieks. 
 
 " Look ! Look ! " 
 
 The moon had burst through the clouds, 
 and lighted up the scene of carnage in the 
 disordered city. The rebellious natives had 
 been rounded up like so many steers, and were 
 rocking and swaying. One of their number
 
 THE FATE OF KRISHNA 283 
 
 had been hoisted on a platform, which rested 
 on the heads of a dozen stalwart Hindus. 
 The light wind caught the flowing dhoti ; 
 his head was thrown forward, his arms were 
 waving in wild gesticulation. And as he 
 screamed his exhortations, he turned his head 
 so that the moonlight streamed full upon his 
 features. 
 
 " Krishna ! " Graham whispered, peering 
 through the night-glasses ; "I am sure of it. 
 His figure — his attitude — the poise of his head 
 
 O God ! " — the infantry had fired a 
 
 volley — " he's down — killed ; no, he's on 
 his knees, urging them on." 
 
 Slowly, and like dense walls mechanically 
 moved, the soldiers were closing in. Unless 
 the rioters threw down their weapons, a 
 terrible slaughter must ensue. Yet still their 
 loud cries of defiance mingled with the cries 
 of the dying. And again the rifles spat like 
 fuming beasts, and the sabres of the mounted 
 police whirled and flashed and cut and 
 hacked. 
 
 The end came as it was bound to come. 
 Crushed like reeds before the winds of March, 
 the natives reeled and tottered and shivered 
 and fell, and the awful pandemonium sank to 
 a whisper of what it had been. Beaten and
 
 284 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 cowed, they fell on their knees in supplication 
 or crawled into the shadows to nurse their 
 wounds. A bugle sang in the night air, and 
 slowly the infantry moved back into line. 
 Their work was over. They wiped their 
 grimed faces with the back of their hands, 
 and bandied jests with the lightness of a 
 shooting-party newly returned from a part- 
 ridge-drive. Then came the quick word of 
 command, and with a rhythmical swing they 
 turned towards the fort. 
 
 Graham dropped his glasses. "I'm going 
 down," he said. 
 
 Charlotte touched his arm. 
 
 " To seek him, Graham ? " 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " If you go, I go." He hesitated a 
 second, but he knew how determined she 
 could be. 
 
 " Very well," he said quietly ; " there is no 
 danger now." 
 
 " And even if it were dangerous, do you 
 think I should allow you to go alone ? " 
 
 He smiled and drew her to him tenderly. 
 " We will go together, little woman," he 
 said. 
 
 When they reached the streets, firemen were 
 cleaning the pavements with their hose, and
 
 THE FATE OF KRISHNA 285 
 
 policemen were riding hither and thither, 
 snapping out commands in an authoritative 
 tone. In the broad business avenue, where 
 the rioters had surrendered, Httle knots of 
 ambulance men and women were at work. 
 
 " Hi, Dennis ! " 
 
 Graham turned quickly at the call, and 
 Captain Fortescue, almost the colour of a 
 native after his night's work, galloped up. 
 
 " Hot job, eh ? " he laughed. " Gad ! but 
 the beggars were as stubborn as mules." 
 
 " Many casualties, Captain ? " 
 
 " Only a hundred or so. Sorry, of course " 
 — he bowed to Charlotte — " but it's no good 
 trying to frighten a crowd like that with blank 
 cartridges." 
 
 " And the ringleaders ? " 
 
 " There seems to have been only one real 
 leader, and he's lying on the pavement, third 
 turning on the right. He's done for, so we left 
 him." 
 
 " Come on," said Graham, taking Char- 
 lotte's arm. " Good night, Captain." 
 
 " Good night to you. Run up and see me 
 to-morrow, will you ? " And he turned his 
 horse's head and galloped off. 
 
 They found Krishna at the spot indicated 
 by the Captain. He was lying back in the
 
 286 THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS 
 
 arms of Kuppuswamy, his head pillowed on 
 the old man's breast, his eyes heavy and glassy, 
 his life-blood streaming from a dozen wounds. 
 Lakshmi was crouching at his feet, her head 
 bowed in prayer, and round about a dozen 
 natives were stretched prostrate, muttering 
 their invocations. 
 
 " Krishna ! Krishna ! Do you know me ? " 
 Graham was kneeling by the side of the dying 
 man. " It is Graham. You know me ? " 
 
 There was no sign of recognition in the fast- 
 closing eyes, but the lips moved as in a smile. 
 
 " You speak to him, Charlotte," Graham 
 whispered huskily ; and she bent down and 
 called him by name. Again the lips 
 moved. 
 
 " Lakshmi ! " he whispered. 
 
 Then the long, attenuated limbs shivered 
 in the convulsions of death, stretched, and 
 were still. 
 
 And the frail little Lakshmi at the feet threw 
 herself on the breast of her dead, and with 
 a wild sob, in which grief and joy were 
 strangely blended, cried : 
 
 " Krishna ! Krishna ! my Krishna ! " 
 
 THE END
 
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