XVIII

The news of Edith’s kidnapping—for, in Heideck’s opinion, this was the only explanation, because she would otherwise have left a message for him—fell upon Heideck as a crushing blow.

He remembered the terrible cruelties narrated of the period of the Sepoy mutiny. And he only needed to remember his own experiences in Lahore to be convinced that all those horrible stories were no exaggeration, but, rather, well within the actual truth of the facts.

But if it was not a like fate that awaited Edith Irwin, yet perhaps another ignominious lot would be hers, and this could not fail to appear, to the man who loved her, more terrible even than death itself.

His alarm and deep despondency had not escaped the notice of the Prince. He laid his hand sympathetically on Heideck’s shoulder, and said—

“I am really quite miserable, comrade! for I now see what you and the lady are to each other. But perhaps you make yourself uneasy without cause; the departure of the lady is capable, perhaps, of a quite simple explanation.”

Heideck shook his head.

“I do not entertain any hope in this respect, for everything points to the fact that the Maharajah of Chanidigot is the man who has got the lady into his power. This sensual despot has for months past schemed how to obtain possession of her. What, in Heaven’s name, is to be done to free the unhappy creature from his clutches?”

“I will inform the General, and doubt not that he will institute an inquiry. If your supposition is correct, the Maharajah will, of course, be compelled to set the lady free. But I doubt if this is the case. The despot of Chanidigot is at present far away.”

“That would not prevent others from acting on his orders. And do you really believe that your General would, for the sake of an English lady, offend an influential Indian prince, whose alliance would at this present moment be very advantageous for Russia?”

“Oh, my dear friend, we are not the barbarians we are held to be in Western Europe. We do not intend to be behind the rest of the world in chivalrous actions, and we certainly should not begin our rule in India by allowing execrable deeds of violence to take place before our very eyes. I am convinced that the General does not in this matter think differently from myself.”

“You do not know what a great comfort it is to me to hear that; for I shall myself be unable to do anything more for Mrs. Irwin. Since I know that Germany is engaged in the war, I can have no further interest but to join my army as quickly as possible.”

“Of course! A soldier’s duty first. But how shall you manage to get to Germany? It will be a devilish hard job.”

“I must try all the same. Under no circumstances could I remain quietly here.”

“Well, then, let us consider matters. The best plan would be for you to return by sea from Bombay or some other port, like Calcutta, Madras, or Karachi. Karachi is nearest. It has even been given the name of the Entrance Gate to Central Asia. And from Lahore, Quetta, or Mooltan, Karachi can be most readily reached by the railway. Steamship communication between Karachi and Europe is only possible by way of Bombay; there is thence no other direct line of steamers than that plying up the Persian Gulf. You must accordingly go by one of the English steamers of the P. and O. line, which start twice a week. The French Messageries Maritimes, which usually sail between Karachi and Marseilles, will, of course, have long since discontinued their services. You could, therefore, just as well go by railway to Bombay. Via Calcutta or Madras would be a roundabout journey.”

“And I should be entirely dependent upon the English steamship lines?”

“I consider it quite out of the question that the ships of the North German Lloyd or the Austrian Lloyd are still running.”

“Then I shall have to give up the idea of this route altogether. For if I am not to make use of a forged passport, which, moreover, will be very hard to obtain, no English steamer will take me as a passenger.”

“That is certainly very probable,” the Prince rejoined, after some thought. “And then—how are you to get to Bombay? The English are, of course, destroying all the railways on their line of retreat.”

“Well, so far as that is concerned, I could go on horseback.”

“What! right through the English army? and at the risk of being arrested for a spy? Are you not aware that the conquered are, as a rule, smarter at shooting those whom they regard as spies than are the victors?”

Heideck could not suppress a smile.

“In this respect the promptness of the Russian procedure could scarcely be excelled. But I allow, that your fears are quite justified. Accordingly, only the road to the north remains open.”

“Yes, you must go to the Khyber Pass on an empty train or with a transport of English prisoners, and then on horseback through Afghanistan to the frontier, and thence again by railway to Kransnovodsk. Your journey would then be across the Caspian to Baku or by railway by way of Tiflis to Poti on the Black Sea and thence by ship to Constantinople. But, my dear comrade, that’s a very long and arduous journey.”

“I shall have to attempt it all the same. Honour commands; and you yourself say that there is no other route than that you have described.”

“Right!—I will take care you are provided with a passport, and will request the General to furnish you with an authority which will enable you to have at any time an escort of Cossacks upon our lines of communication through Afghanistan—But—”

A gleam of pleasure in his face showed that in his view he had hit upon a very happy thought—“Might there not, perhaps, after all be found some solution which would save you all this exertion? The Germans and the Russians are allies. In the ranks of our army you would also be able to serve your fatherland. And an officer who knows India as well as you, would be invaluable to us at the present time. I will, if you like, speak at once with the General; and I am certain that he will not hesitate a moment to attach you to his staff with the rank that you hold in the German army.”

Heideck shook his friend’s hand with emotion.

“You make it difficult for me to thank you as you deserve. Without your intervention, my existence would have come to an inglorious close, and the proposal you now make to me is a new proof of your amiable sympathy. But you will not be vexed if I decline your offer—will you? It would certainly be a great honour to serve in your splendid army, but you see I cannot dispose of myself as I would, but must, as a soldier, return to my post irrespective of the difficulties I may have to encounter. I beg you—Lord! what’s that? in this land of miracles even the dead come to life again.”

The astonishment that prompted this question was a very natural one, for the lean, dark-skinned little man who had just appeared at the entrance of the tent was no other than his faithful servant Morar Gopal whom he had believed to be dead. Round his forehead he wore a fresh bandage. For a moment he stood stock-still at the entrance to the tent, and his dark eyes beamed with pleasure at having found his master again unharmed.

Hardly able to restrain his emotion, Morar Gopal advanced towards Heideck, prostrated himself on the ground, Hindu fashion, in order to touch the earth with his forehead, and then sprang to his feet with all the appearance of the greatest joy.

But Heideck was scarcely less moved than the other, and pressed the brown hand of his faithful servant warmly.

“These lunatics did not kill you after all then? But I saw you felled to the ground by their blows.”

Morar Gopal grinned cunningly.

“I threw myself down as soon as I saw that further resistance was useless. And, because I was bleeding from a wound in the head, they thought, I suppose, that they had finished me. Directly afterwards the Cossacks came, and in front of their horses, which would otherwise have trampled upon me, I quickly scrambled to my feet.”

“You have great presence of mind! But where did you get this fine suit of clothes?”

“I ran back to the hotel—through the back door, where the smoke was not so stifling—because I thought that sahib would perhaps have taken refuge there. I did not find sahib, but I found these clothes, and thought it better to put them on than to leave them to burn.”

“Quite right, my brave fellow! you will hardly be brought up for this little theft.”

“I looked for sahib everywhere, where English prisoners are; and when I came to Anar Kali just at the moment that Mrs. Irwin was being driven away in a carriage, I knew that I was at length on the track of my master.”

Heideck violently clutched his arm.

“You saw it? and you know, too, who it was that took her away?”

“Yes, sir, it was Siwalik, the Master of the Horse to Prince Tasatat; and the lady is now with him on the road to Simla.”

“Simla! How do you know that?”

“I was near enough to hear every word that the Indians spoke, and they said that they were going to Simla.”

“And Mrs. Irwin? She didn’t resist? She didn’t cry for help? She allowed herself to be carried off quietly?”

“The lady was very proud. She did not say a word.”

An orderly officer stepped into the tent and brought the Prince an order to appear at once before the Commander-in-Chief.

“Do you know what about?” asked the Colonel.

“As far as I know, it concerns a report of Captain Obrutschev, who commanded the file of men told off for the execution. He reported that the Colonel had carried away a spy who was to be shot by order of the court-martial.”

Heideck was in consternation.

“Your act of grace is, after all, likely to land you in serious difficulties,” he said. “But, as I need now no longer conceal my quality as German officer, I can, in case the field telegraph is working, be able to establish my identity by inquiry at the General Staff of the German Army.”

“Certainly! and I entreat you not to be uneasy on my account; I shall soon justify the action I have taken.”

He disappeared in company of the orderly officer; and Heideck the while plied the brave Morar Gopal afresh with questions as to the circumstances connected with Edith’s kidnapping.

But the Hindu could not tell him anything more, as he had not dared approach Edith. He was only concerned with the endeavour to find his master. He had learnt that Heideck had been carried off by Cossacks and indefatigably pursued his investigations until at last, with the inborn acumen peculiar to his race, he had found out everything. That he, from this time forth, would share the lot of his adored sahib appeared to him a matter of course. And Heideck had not the heart, in this hour of their meeting again, to destroy his illusion.

After the lapse of half an hour Prince Tchajawadse returned. His joyous countenance showed that he was the bearer of good news.

“All is settled. My word was bond enough for the General, and he considered an inquiry in Berlin quite superfluous.”

“In truth, you Russians do everything on a grand scale,” exclaimed Heideck. “A great Empire, a great army, a wide, far-seeing policy, and a great comprehension for all things.”

“I also talked to the General touching my suggestion to include you in the ranks of our army, and he is completely of one mind with me in the matter. He also considers the difficulties of a journey to Germany under the present conditions to be almost unsurmountable. He makes you the offer to enter his staff with the rank of captain. Under the most favourable conditions you would only be able to reach Berlin after the war is over.”

“I do not believe that this war will be so soon at an end. Only reflect, half the globe is in flames.”

“All the same, you ought not to reject his offer. We could, to ease your mind, make inquiries on your behalf in Berlin. The field telegraph is open as far as Peshawar, and there is consequently connexion with Moscow, St. Petersburg, and Berlin.”

“I accept without further consideration. I should be happy, if permission were granted, to fight in your ranks.”

“There is no doubt of that whatever. I will at once procure you our white summer uniform and that of a captain of dragoons; and this sword, comrade, I hope you will accept from me as a small gift of friendship.”

“I thank you from my heart, Colonel.”

“I salute you as one of ours. I might even be in a position to give you at once an order to carry out.”

“But not without permission from Berlin, Prince?”

“Well, then, we will wait for it; but it would be a great pity if, contrary to our expectation, it were to be delayed. The commission that I was on the point of procuring for you would certainly have greatly interested you.”

“And may I ask—”

“The General has the intention to send a detachment to Simla.”

“To Simla, the summer residence of the Viceroy?”

“Yes.”

“But this mountain town is at the present moment not within the sphere of hostilities; the Viceroy remains in Calcutta.”

“Quite right; but that does not preclude the news of the occupation of Simla having a great effect on the world at large. Moreover, in the Government offices there there might possibly be found interesting documents which it would be worth while to intercept.”

“And you consider it possible that His Excellency would despatch me thither?”

“As the detachment to which my dragoons, as well as some infantry and two machine guns, would belong is under my command, I have begged the General to attach you to the expedition.”

Heideck understood the high-minded intentions of the Prince, and shook his hands almost impetuously.

“Heaven grant that permission from Berlin comes in time! I desire nothing in the world so earnestly as to accompany you to Simla.”

Almost quicker than could have been expected, considering the heavy work imposed upon the telegraph wires, the communication arrived from Berlin that Captain Heideck should, for the time being, do duty in the Russian army, and that it should be left to his judgment to take the first favourable opportunity to return to Germany.

He forthwith waited upon the commanding general, was initiated into his new role formally and by handshake, and was in all due form attached as captain to the detachment that was commanded to proceed to Simla.

The next morning the cavalcade set out under the command of Prince Tchajawadse.

Their route led across a part of the battlefield lying east of Lahore, where the battle between the sepoys and the pursuing Russian cavalry had principally taken place.

The sight of this trampled, bloodstained plain was shockingly sad. Although numerous Indian and Russian soldiers under the military police were engaged in picking up the corpses, there still lay everywhere around the horribly mutilated bodies of the fallen in the postures in which they had been overtaken by a more or less painful death. An almost intolerable odour of putrefaction filled the air, and mingled with the biting, stifling smoke of the funeral pyres upon which the corpses were being burnt.

The greater part of the Russian army was in the camp and in the city. Only the advance guard, which had returned from the pursuit of the fleeing English, had taken up a position to the south of the city. The reinforcements which had been despatched from Peshawar, and which had been impatiently expected, had not yet arrived.

Heideck heard that about 4,000 English soldiers and more than 1,000 officers were dead and wounded, while 3,000 men and 85 officers were prisoners in the hands of the Russians. The losses of the sepoy regiment could not at present be approximately determined, as the battle had extended over too wide an area.

Prince Tchajawadse, although showing the same friendly feeling towards Heideck, now adopted more the attitude of his military superior. He narrated during the journey that the Russian army was taking the road through the west provinces, and would leave the valley of the Indus, and the country immediately bordering it, unmolested.

“We shall march to Delhi,” he said, “and then probably advance upon Cawnpore and Lucknow.”

The detachment was unable to make use of the railway which goes via Amritsar and Ambala to Simla, because it had been to a great extent destroyed by the English. But the rapidity of the march naturally depended upon the marching capabilities of the infantry. And although Heideck could not fail to admire the freshness and endurance of these hardened soldiers, they yet advanced far too slowly for his wishes.

How happy he would have been if, with his squadron, he had been able to make a forced march upon the road which the unhappy Edith must have taken!

On the second day after their start, the blue and violet peaks of the mountains were silhouetted in the distance. It was the mountainous country lying beneath the Himalayas, whose low summer temperature induces the Viceroy and the high officials of the Indian Government every year to take refuge from the intolerably hot and sultry Calcutta in the cool and healthy Simla. Moreover, the families of the rich English merchants and officials living in the Punjab and the west provinces are accustomed to take up their quarters there during the hot season.

The vegetation as they advanced became ever richer and more luxuriant. Their way led through splendid jungles, which in places gave the impression of artificially made parks. Hosts of monkeys sprang about among the palms, and took daring leaps from one branch to the other. The approach of the soldiers did not appear to cause these lively creatures any appreciable fear, for they often remained seated directly over their heads and regarded the unaccustomed military display with as much inquisitiveness as they evidently did with delight. Parrots in gay plumage filled the air with shrill cries, while here and there herds of antelopes were visible, who, however, always dashed away in rapid flight, in which their strange manner of springing from all fours in the air afforded a most strange and delightful spectacle.

On the third day a gay-coloured cavalcade crossed the path of the detachment. They were evidently aristocratic Indians, who in the half-native, half-English dress were seated upon excellent horses, a cross-breed between the Arabian and Gujarat. At their head rode a splendidly dressed, dark-bearded man upon a white horse of special beauty.

He halted to exchange a few words of civil salutation with the Russian colonel. When he had again set himself in motion with his lancers, soon to be lost to view in the thick jungle, the Prince motioned Heideck to his side.

“I have news for you, comrade! The aristocratic Indian with whom I just spoke was the Maharajah of Sabathu who is on the look-out for his guest and friend, the Maharajah of Chanidigot, who is engaged on a hunting expedition.”

“The Maharajah of Chanidigot?” Heideck exclaimed with sparkling eyes. “The rogue is then really in our immediate neighbourhood?”

“The hunting-camp that the two Princes have formed lies directly in our line of march, and the Maharajah has invited me to camp this night there with my men. I have really more than half a mind to accept his kind invitation.”

“And did you not inquire about Mrs. Irwin, Prince?”

The Colonel’s face assumed at Heideck’s question a strangely serious, almost repellent expression.

“No.”

“But it is more than probable that she is in his camp.”

“Possibly, although up to now every proof of that is wanting.”

“But you will institute inquiries for her, will you not? You will compel the Maharajah to give us news of her whereabouts?”

“I can, at most, politely ask him for information. But I cannot promise you even that with certainty.”

Heideck was extremely surprised. He could not explain in any way the change in the Prince’s demeanour. And he would have been inclined to take his strange answers for a not too delicate jest, had not the frigid, impenetrable expression of his face at once excluded any suggestion of the sort.

“But I don’t understand, Prince,” he said, surprised. “It was only a few days ago that you were kind enough to promise me your active support in this matter.”

“I am to my regret compelled to cancel that promise; for I have received strict instructions from His Excellency to avoid everything that can lead to friction with the native Princes, and that my superiors laid great stress upon a good understanding with the Maharajah of Chanidigot was not known to me at the time of our conversation. He was the first who openly declared for Russia and whose troops have come over to our side. The happy issue of the Battle of Lahore is perhaps in no small degree due to him. You understand, Captain, that it would make the worst possible impression were we to come into conflict with a man so needful to us for such a trifling cause.”

“Trifling cause?” Heideck asked earnestly, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Well, yes, what appears to you of such great importance is, when regarded from a high political point of view, very trifling and insignificant. You cannot possibly expect that the political interests of a world empire should be sacrificed for the interests of a single lady, who, moreover, by nationality belongs to our enemies.”

“Shall she then be handed over helpless to the bestiality of this dissolute scoundrel?”

Prince Tchajawadse shrugged his shoulders, while at the same time he cast a strange side-glance at Heideck, who was riding beside him, which seemed to say—

“How dense you are, my dear fellow! And how slow of understanding!”

But the other did not understand this dumb play of the eyes; and, after a short pause, he could not refrain from saying in a tone of painful reproach—

“Why, my Prince, did you so generously procure for me permission to take part in this expedition if I was at once to be doomed to inaction in a matter, which, as you know, is at present nearer my heart than aught else!”

“I do not remember, Captain, to have imposed any such restraint upon you. It was purely my own attitude as regards this matter which I wished to make clear to you. And I hope that you have completely understood me. I will not, and dare not, have anything officially to do with the affair of Mrs. Irwin, and I should like to hear nothing about it. That I, on the other hand, do not interfere with your private concerns, and would not trouble about them, is quite a matter of course. It entirely suffices for me, if you do not bring me into any embarrassment and impossible situation.”

That was, at all events, much less than Heideck had expected after the zealous promises of his friend. But after quiet reflection he came to the conclusion that the Prince could, as a matter of fact, scarcely act otherwise, and that he went to the utmost limits of the possible, if he did not absolutely forbid him to undertake anything for the advantage of the unhappy Edith. Heideck’s decision to leave not a stone unturned to liberate the woman he loved was not thereby shaken for a moment, but he knew now that he would have to proceed with the greatest circumspection, and that he could not reckon upon anyone’s assistance—an admission which was not exactly calculated to fill him with joyous hope.

After a short march the detachment reached the spot lying immediately at the foot of the first hill, a wide space shaded by mighty trees, upon which the Maharajah had erected his improvised hunting-camp. A great number of tents had been pitched under the trees. A gay-coloured throng of men surged amongst them.

It was perfectly clear to Heideck that he could not himself search the camp for Edith Irwin without exciting the attention of the Indians, thereby at once compromising the success of his venture. And he had no one to whom he could entrust the important task, except the faithful Morar Gopal, who, in spite of all the terrors of war, had also followed him on this march to Simla, although Heideck had offered him his discharge, together with the payment of his wages for several months more.

Accordingly, after the signal had been given to halt and dismount, he took him aside and communicated to him his instructions, at the same time handing him a handful of rupees to enable him to give the necessary bribes.

The Hindu listened with keen attention, and the play of his dark, clever face showed what a lively personal interest he took in this affair nearest his master’s heart.

“Everything shall be done according to your wishes, sahib,” he said, and soon afterwards was lost to view among the innumerable crowd of the two Indian Princes’ servants and followers.

Whilst the Russians were digging their cooking trenches somewhat aside from the main camp, and making all necessary arrangements for bivouacking, Heideck had an opportunity of admiring the magnificence with which these Indian Princes organised their hunting excursions.

The tents of the two Maharajahs were almost the size of a one-floor bungalow, and on peering through the open entrance of one of them into the interior, Heideck saw that it was lavishly hung with red, blue, and yellow silk, and furnished with most costly carpets.

About half a hundred smaller tents were destined to receive the retinue and servants. Behind them again was a whole herd of camels and elephants, which had carried the baggage and material for the tents. The bleating of countless sheep mingled with the hundred-voiced din of the Indians as they busily ran hither and thither, and Heideck computed the number of buffaloes and tethered horses which grazed round the camp at more than three hundred.

The Maharajah of Sabathu regarded the Russians, who had here made halt at his invitation, as his guests, and he discharged the duty of hospitality with genuine Indian lavishness. He had so many sheep and other provisions placed at the disposal of the soldiers that they could now amply compensate themselves for many a day’s privation in the past. But the officers were solemnly bidden to the banquet that was to take place in the Maharajah’s tent.

Heideck’s hope of meeting on this occasion the Maharajah of Chanidigot once more, and of perhaps finding an opportunity of conversation with him, was disappointed.

On returning from a walk through the camp, in which he did not discover anywhere a trace of Edith, back to the Russian bivouac, Heideck learnt from the mouth of Prince Tchajawadse that the Maharajah of Chanidigot had met with a slight accident in the hunting excursion that day, and was under surgical treatment in his tent, whither he had been brought.

It was said that the tusks of a wild boar, which had run between his horse’s legs, had inflicted a severe wound on the foot, and it was in any case certain that he would not be visible that day.

On this occasion Heideck also learnt the circumstances to which the meeting with the two Indian Princes was due.

The Maharajah of Chanidigot, who knew full well that the English had sentenced him to death for high treason, had fled from his capital. With a hundred horse and many camels, carrying the most precious part of his movable treasures, he had advanced northwards out of the sphere of British territory into the rear of the Russian advancing army. He had visited his friend, the Maharajah of Sabathu, who was likewise a Mohammedan, and both Princes had for their greater safety proceeded hither to the foot of the mountain chain, where, for the present, despite the exciting times, they could pursue the pleasures of sport with all the nonchalance of real gentlemen at large.

The treacherous despot of Chanidigot would probably have preferred to have gone direct to Simla, and it was only the intelligence that had reached the Russians, that English troops were still in Ambala, that probably caused him to stop half-way.

Prince Tchajawadse was also induced by this intelligence to abandon his intended route via Ambala, and to proceed in a direct line through the jungle. In this way he could confidently hope to reach Simla without a battle, and, moreover, should it turn out that the garrison of Ambala was not over strong, he might deliver a surprise attack upon the English from the north. In time of peace Ambala was one of the larger encampments, but now it was to be expected that the main body of the troops stationed there had been ordered to Lahore.

The whole opulence of an Indian Court was unfolded at the Maharajah’s banquet. At the table covered with red velvet and luxuriously laid with gold and silver plate, the Russian officers sat in gay-coloured ranks with the chiefs of the Prince’s retinue. The viands were excellent, and champagne flowed in inexhaustible streams. The Russians required but few invitations to drink, but the Mohammedan Indians were not in this respect far behind them. It is true that the drinking of wine is forbidden by the tenets of their religion; but in respect of champagne, they understand how to evade this commandment by christening it by the harmless name of “sparkling lemonade,” a circumlocution which of course did not in the slightest counteract its exhilarating effects. The Indians who were less proof against the effects of alcohol were much more quickly intoxicated than their new European friends; and under the influence of the potent liquor universal fraternisation inevitably resulted.

The Maharajah himself delivered a suggestive speech in praise of the Russian victors who had at last come as the long-desired saviours of the country from the British yoke. Of course he had to employ the accursed English language, it being the only one that he understood besides his own mother tongue; and Prince Tchajawadse had to translate his words into Russian in order that they should be intelligible to all the Russian heroes.

In spite of this somewhat troublesome procedure, however, his words roused intense enthusiasm, and embracings and brotherly kisses were soon the order of the day.

When the universal jollity had reached its height, two Bayaderes, who belonged to the suite of the Maharajah of Sabathu, made their appearance, Indian beauties, whose voluptuous feminine charms were calculated to make the blood even of the spoilt European run warm. Dressed in gold-glittering petticoats and jackets, which left a hand’s breadth of light brown skin visible round the waist, with gold coins upon the blue-black hair, they executed their dances to the monotonous tone of weird musical instruments upon a carpet spread in the middle of the tent. The bare arms, the bones and toes of their little feet were adorned with gold bracelets set with pearls and rings bedizened with jewels. Though their motions had nothing in common with the bacchanalian abandon of other national dances, yet the graceful play of their supple, lithe limbs was seductive enough to enchant the spectators. The Indians threw silver coins to the dancers, but the Russians, according to their native custom, clapped applause and never tired of demanding amid shouts of delight a repetition of the dance.

Amid the general wantonness there was only one who remained morose and anxious, and this was Heideck, the newly-made captain in the Russian army.

He knew that it would be easy for Morar Gopal’s shrewdness to find him in case he had something to report. And that the Hindu did not make his appearance was for him a disheartening proof that his servant had not hitherto succeeded in discovering Edith’s whereabouts or in obtaining any certain news of her fate.

What did it avail him, that after much thought he had already evolved a plan for her liberation, if there was no possibility of putting himself in communication with her!

Believing her to be kept prisoner in a harem tent, his idea was to send Morar Gopal with a letter to her, fully convinced that the wily Indian would succeed by stratagem and bribery in reaching her. Before the banquet he had negotiated with one of the Indian rajahs for the purchase of an ox-waggon, and if Edith could by his letter be prevailed upon to make an attempt at flight, it would not in his view be very difficult to bring her under Morar Gopal’s protection to Ambala, where she would again find herself among her English countrymen.

But this plan was unrealisable so long as he did not even know where Edith was. Incapable of bearing any longer this condition of uncertainty, he was just on the point of leaving the tent in order, at all risks, to hunt for the beloved lady, when a Russian dragoon stepped behind his chair and informed him with a military salute that a lady outside the tent wished to speak to the Captain.

Full of blissful hope that it was Edith he jumped up and hurried out. But his longing eyes sought in vain for Captain Irwin’s widow. Instead of her whom he sought he perceived a tall female form in the short jacket and short-cut coloured dress which he had seen on his journeys among the inhabitants of the Georgian mountains. The hair and the face of the girl were almost entirely hidden by a scarf wound round the head. Only when, at his approach, she pushed it back somewhat he perceived who stood before him.

“Georgi—you here!” he exclaimed with surprise. “And in this dress?”

He had indeed reason to be surprised, for he had not again seen the handsome, blonde page, to whom he chiefly owed his life, since their meeting on the way to the place of execution.

When on the evening of that for him so eventful day he asked Prince Tchajawadse about Georgi he had received only a short, evasive reply, and the Prince’s knitted brows showed such evident anger that he well perceived that something must have taken place between them, and so it appeared to him to be best to him not to mention again the name of the Circassian girl.

When the detachment started he had in vain looked for the page who had hitherto been inseparable from “his master,” and only the anxiety for Edith, which was so much nearer his heart, was the cause that he had not thought much about the inexplicable disappearance of the disguised girl.

He had certainly least of all expected to find her here, so far from the Russian headquarters, and in woman’s dress to boot. But the Circassian did not seem inclined to give him detailed information.

“I have begged you to come out to see me, sir,” she said, “because I did not want the Prince to see me. I met your Indian servant. And he told me about the English lady whom the Maharajah of Chanidigot has carried off from you.”

“He did not carry her off from me, Georgi, for I have no claim upon her. She only placed herself under my protection, and therefore it is my duty to do all that I can to set her free.”

The girl looked at him, and there was a glance as of suppressed passion in her beautiful eyes.

“Why do you not speak the truth, sir? Say that you love her! Tell me that you love her and I will bring her back to you—and this very evening.”

“You, Georgi, how in all the world will you be able to manage that? Do you know then where the lady is to be found?”

“I know it from your servant, Morar Gopal. She is there, in that tent of the Maharajah of Chanidigot, before whose door the two Indians are standing sentry. Take care and do not attempt to force your way in, for the sentries would cut you to pieces before allowing you to put a foot in the tent.”

“It may be that you are right,” said Heideck, whose breast was now filled with a blissful feeling at having at last learned with certainty that the adored woman was close by. “But how shall you be able to get to her?”

“I am a woman, and I know how one must treat these miserable Indian rogues; the Maharajah of Chanidigot is ill, and in his pain he has something else to think of than of the joys of love. You must make use of this favourable moment, sir! and in this very night whatever is to happen must happen.”

“Certainly! every minute lost means perhaps a terrible danger to Mrs. Irwin. But if you have a plan for saving her please tell me—”

The Circassian shook her head.

“Why talk of things that must be first accomplished? Return to the banquet, sir, that no one may suspect of you. At midnight you will find the English lady in your tent, or you will never set eyes on me again.”

She turned as if to go; but after having taken a few steps came back once more to him.

“You will not tell the Prince that I am here, do you understand? It is not time yet for him to learn that.”

With these words she disappeared, before Heideck could ask another question. Little as he felt inclined after what he had just experienced to return to the mad riot of the banquet, he perceived that there was scarcely anything else open to him, for any interference with the unknown plans of the Circassian would scarcely be of any advantage to Edith.

But if the minutes had hitherto appeared endless, they now crept on with quite intolerable slowness. He scarcely heard or saw anything that was taking place about him. The rajah who had the next place to him tried in vain to open a conversation in his broken English, and at last, shaking his head, abandoned the silent stranger to his musings, which in the middle of this riotous festivity must certainly have appeared very strange to him.

Shortly before midnight, before Prince Tchajawadse and his other comrades thought of moving, Heideck once more left the state tent of the Maharajah and turned his steps towards the Russian camp, which was far away visible in the red glare of the bivouac fires, around which the loudest merriment was also taking place.

In reality he entertained very little hope that the Circassian would be able to fulfil her bold promise, for what she had taken upon herself appeared to him to be absolutely impracticable. Yet his heart throbbed wildly when he thrust back the linen sheet that covered the entrance of the tent which had been assigned to him.

On the folding-table in the middle of the little room were two lighted candles beside a burning lantern. And in their light Heideck discerned—not Edith Irwin, but instead, the handsomest young rajah who had ever crossed his eyes under the glowing skies of India.

For a moment Heideck was uncertain, for the slender youth, in the silken blouse tied round with a red scarf, English riding-breeches and neat little boots, had turned his back to him, so that he could not see his face, and his hair was completely hidden under the rose-and-yellow striped turban. But the blissful presentiment which told him who was concealed beneath the charming disguise could not deceive him. A few rapid steps and he was by the side of the delicate-limbed Indian youth. Overpowered by a storm of passionate emotions, he forgot all obstacles and scruples, and the next moment clasped him in his arms with an exultant cry of joy.

“Edith! my Edith!”

“My beloved friend!”

In the exceeding delight of this reunion the confession which had never passed her lips in the hours of familiar tete-a-tete, or in the moments of extreme peril which they had endured together, forced its way irresistibly from her heart—the confession of a love which had long absorbed her whole life.

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