CHAPTER XXIX.

AN INTRUDER.

Dr. Avery was determined to make the guide express himself more clearly as to the probable fate of the party. He had let fall some abrupt expressions, but they were not satisfactory.

Finally Luchman said he had had a faint hope that there might be some way of leaving the rear of the temple. It was for that reason that he made his reconnaissance, but it only showed him that there was not the slightest chance.

"I gather that you have concluded that darkness is one of the indispensable conditions."

"That is true, sahib."

"The moon will rise later each night, but we cannot afford to wait many days for that."

"I am willing to tarry two nights longer, sahib, and then if we cannot make the venture we have the last resort."

"What is that?"

"I will open negotiations with Wana Affghar and get the best terms possible, knowing that he will break every one of them if he can."

The guide realized the skill with which this ruffian had outwitted him. When Luchman reappeared in Delhi, after his journey from Calcutta, Wana's detectives knew it and held him under surveillance, though the guide never dreamed of such a thing. He supposed the bloodhounds had been thrown off the track, but they never lost the scent for any length of time, and were at his heels, as may be said, when he left Flagstaff Tower, and with little delay opened communications with their chief.

The truth was, Wana Affghar was determined to secure the Star of India—the great diamond—no matter what the cost or sacrifice demanded. This fixedness of purpose, amid extraordinary conditions, will make clear many occurrences which otherwise would remain incapable of explanation.

That night brought a singular experience to another member of the little party of refugees.

After the departure of Dr. Avery to learn the cause of the slight disturbance in the entrance way, the missionary and his family continued their conversation in low tones until the faint sound of Luchman's pistol was heard.

This naturally startled the group, and Mr. Hildreth rose to go out and learn the cause.

"Wait until the doctor comes back," interposed his wife, "it is lonely here in the darkness."

"I imagine it is nothing serious," said her husband when some minutes had passed, "otherwise we should hear more of it."

"The pistol was probably discharged to let the Ghoojurs know that our friends are on the watch," suggested Marian.

This theory was accepted, the three naturally believing that if there was anything worth telling they would hear of it. The conversation went on as before, until the hour became so late that Mr. Hildreth requested them to retire for the night.

Marian and her mother withdrew to the smaller apartment, where, with the aid of their shawls and outer garments, they made the best couch they could upon the flinty floor. The missionary himself, while awaiting the coming of one or more of his friends, fell asleep and did not wake until morning. It was much the same with his wife, but far different with his daughter.

The latter rested quietly until about the turn of night, when she found herself wide awake, without understanding the cause. The extreme sultriness of the evening oppressed her, and she concluded her wakefulness was due to that. It will be borne in mind, too, that she had slumbered more than usual during the preceding twenty four hours, and therefore was in no special need of sleep.

There was nothing to do but to lie still and think. The gentle breathing of her parent at her side showed that she was unconscious, and Marian took care not to disturb her. Her brain seemed to be unusually busy, and the longer she lay the more wakeful she became, until she was convinced that she would have to pass the long dismal hours in that fashion until morning.

She was half inclined to rise and pass into the entrance way, where she supposed Luchman, Avery and Harkins were keeping guard. She knew they would be glad to see her, though they might object to the increased danger in which she would be placed. At the same time a gentle feeling of delicacy restrained her, and she decided to stay where she was.

"It is dreary enough for us all," she reflected, "and my place is beside my mother, even though she would not miss me."

She had lain awake, as she believed, about an hour, still oppressed by the heat, when she became aware that the apartment was cooler, as though a gentle current of air was blowing in.

She did not understand it, since the only means of ventilation was through the circular openings around the upper part of the room, and the door which was closed.

And jet the atmosphere was unmistakably cooler. She distinctly felt a touch of the draught against her hot cheek.

"The door must be open," she concluded, softly rising to her feet and groping her way to it.

No; it was shut, just as she had closed it herself before she and her mother lay down.

Still wondering, she listened, in the belief that a gentle wind must have risen, but the vegetation outside was motionless.

"There is no use in perplexing myself," she thought, closing her eyes, in the hope that gentle sleep would press them down.

But it was useless. She was as fully awake as when hurrying through the streets of Delhi on that fearful night of the uprising. With a sigh she gave up the attempt.

"I do believe the door is open," she said, shortly after; "but, if it is, those on the outside are watchful, and there is no cause for fear, so I will not rise again."

She could not be mistaken when the faint sound of a footstep fell on her ear: some one was stepping softly about the room.

"What is the matter, father?" she asked, speaking low, so as not to disturb her mother.

There was no reply, and she repeated the question. Still there was no answer, and the cat-like step ceased. Whoever the intruder might be, he was standing still and listening. Marian was curious, but she felt no misgiving, for it was beyond belief that any enemy could have effected an entrance into the inner temple.

A moment later she heard the heavy door shut, after which the same tomb-like stillness settled over all. She lay a long time listening and wondering, but heard nothing more, and finally fell asleep.

When she opened her eyes in the morning, the night's experience was upon her mind, and continued a puzzle which she could not satisfactorily explain. She questioned her father, and found that he had not risen from his bed after bidding them good night. He was not a somnambulist, so that it was impossible that the stealthy footsteps should have been his.

It was equally out of the question that Dr. Avery or Harkins was the intruder. She was, therefore, forced to the reluctant conclusion that it was Luchman, whose business it was impossible to imagine, though she could not doubt that it was perfectly proper.

And yet it was not Luchman.

CHAPTER XXX.

THE LAST RESORT.

Marian Hildreth committed a serious mistake in not making known the strange occurrence of the night before. Had she told of it, the history of the succeeding few days would have been wholly changed.

But the rest remained in ignorance, and the young lady herself never dreamed of the true explanation.

The morning brought the awful shock of the death of George Harkins. Father, mother and daughter wept and mourned him deeply, for he had endeared himself to all by his nobility of nature.

"We will bury him," said Dr. Avery, when all were present, excepting Luchman, who remained at his post.

"How can that be done?" asked the missionary.

"We will carry him in there," replied Avery, pointing to the smaller apartment, occupied by Marian and her mother the night before. "What more fitting tomb can be given to him? It was here he fell while defending us, and here we will make his sepulcher. In a temple consecrated to idolatry we place the body of a Christian, which will give a sanctity to this infernal pile of stones that they never could have possessed otherwise."

Accordingly it was so done. The stiffened form was borne within the smaller chamber by the missionary and the surgeon, while the ladies, in the solemn twilight of the temple, looked on with moist eyes and swelling hearts.

It was laid tenderly upon the stone floor, and, kneeling at the head of the body, the missionary offered to Heaven a touching and pathetic prayer, while the faces of the rest were bent, and their hearts throbbed in unison with the fervent petition of the good man.

Then they came forth and closed the door, which they hoped might remain sealed until opened by the angel's trump on the resurrection morn.

The duty to the dead, so far as it was capable of fulfillment, had been done, and the living were confronted by the problem of their own safety. Luchman, when questioned, told them to eat all they wanted, if it took the last morsel of food, since the coming night was to be the last spent in the ruins.

The native gave no explanation, but was so positive that the others acted upon his counsel. None was particularly hungry, though all partook, and the portion sent out to the guide was all that was left.

There was less need of food than of water. Only a little was drank by each, but it drained the lota, and their thirst was aggravated rather than satisfied.

Another long, hot, seemingly endless day broke upon them. The flaming sun rose once more in the brassy sky, its rays glowing with a fervor that made all nature gasp and pant.

Looking out from their refuge, the Ghoojurs were seen in the distance, beyond rifle shot, but still vigilant Luchman went out of the temple and climbed to the most elevated portion of the ruins, so as to gain the best view. He spent some time among the limbs of the twisted trees, and carefully scrutinized every part of the landscape.

On the one hand was the grove, and beyond that the jungle. In the shade of the former, Wana Affghar and most of his ruffians were waiting, while in the opposite direction, and distant only a couple of hundred yards, was the gleam of a broad but muddy stream. Trees were growing on its banks, and the current was seen only at intervals through the interstices of the vegetation.

Had any one watched the brown countenance of the native he would have noted that his gaze was fixed for a long time in the direction of the stream. It was apparent that he felt that if any possible hope remained to the fugitives it was there. The river was more friendly than the jungle.

Such had been the belief of the guide during the preceding evening, and he had made an effort, unknown to Avery, to extend his reconnaissance to the water, but the Ghoojurs were there, as he feared. They could not have failed to note how tempting it would be to the fugitives, and they took care to guard it well.

No doubt they were still doing so, crouching among the tall grass along the bank, and at the base of the overhanging trees, their black eyes turned eagerly in the direction of the ruined temple, anxious that the hated Feringhees should venture within their reach.

Luchman was convinced of another fact: if Wana Affghar had received any re-enforcements, they did not number more than one half his original force.

This was strange, since it would seem to have been impossible to prevent the spreading of the news that a party of Europeans were shut up in the old temple, thus bringing a continually increasing swarm to the spot; but in some way or other, as Luchman believed, the brigand chieftain had kept his secret, and the situation was the same now as at the beginning.

Across the dark countenance passed an expression that told of bitter hopelessness and desperation, as he slowly made his way down from his perch and joined his friends below.

Under heaven their hopes were centered upon him. He was the instrument that had brought them safely through many perils to this point, and he alone was to lead them to safety, if such an achievement was within the reach of human attainment.

The entire company gathered in the arched way, for after a night spent in the close apartments they longed for the fresher air, which could be secured only by running some risk from the stealthy shots of their enemies, who might choose to expose their own lives in the attempt to reach the Feringhees.

The refugees hoped, since the rainy season was not far off, that some disturbance of the elements would bring a cloudy night, or one in which the moon would be hidden to such an extent that it would give some faint chance of success with their desperate venture.

A slight vapor in the west raised expectations, but it proved similar to that which sometimes hovers over the burning wastes of the Sahara. As the heat of the day intensified, it became thinner, and finally vanished.

Late in the afternoon all were thrown into alarm by the appearance of Wana Affghar to make a charge upon the temple. He galloped out at full speed from the edge of the grove, followed by his horde of ruffians, and rushed directly for the entrance way.

Mr. Hildreth and Dr. Avery cocked their guns, and awaited the moment when their aim would be sure. Luchman placed his hand upon his pistol, and stood like a bronze statue, his eyes fixed upon the advancing brigands. The ladies withdrew beyond the reach of any flying bullets.

But the demonstration amounted to nothing. When the leader had brought his men to a certain point, their courage failed them, or the chieftain changed his mind.

They stopped, talked violently for a few moments, and then melted like the cloud in the western sky. They did not stay where they were, but fell back until in the shelter of the trees again.

"A lame and impotent conclusion," remarked the surgeon, with a scornful laugh; "their courage melted like snow in the sun."

Luchman believed that most of the Ghoojurs took part in the idle display, though no doubt the guard remained by the river, so as to meet any flight of the fugitives in that direction.

The result was accepted as evidence that the enemy would not make any attack at all. Why should they do so, when they had but to wait a brief while longer, and avoid all personal danger?

Meanwhile, the retreat of the ladies to the interior did not prove as safe as was expected.

Naturally they paused near the door leading out from the arched passage, watching and listening with anxious hearts. A slight noise caused Marian to turn her head, when she saw the muzzle of a gun pushed through one of the circular openings that admitted light into the place. She and her parent stood in direct range. Catching the arm of her mother, she drew her toward the frightful weapon. The two were thus placed below its range, since the musket could not be depressed enough to reach them.

The barrel was cautiously advanced until nearly its whole length was visible. Had the ladies remained by the door, they would have seen the murderous face of a fierce Ghoojur, as he wrinkled his brow in the effort to pierce the twilight within.

He was still glaring like a beast of prey, when the sharp crack of a pistol rang through the apartment, and with a rasping scream the Ghoojur went over backward, his skull bored by a bullet from the pistol of Luchman the guide.

The latter caught a faint sound just as the party retreated from the front, and, suspecting something of the kind, he ran back just in time to perforate the Asiatic, who had shoved his gun so far into the interior that it dropped from his nerveless grasp as he went over backward, and fell with a ringing sound upon the flinty floor below.

"God has sent us another weapon," was the cool remark of Luchman, who strode across the apartment, picked up the gun, and walked outside without another word.

When a quarter of an hour passed and brought no news from the front, the ladies timidly ventured out again.

"All danger is ended for the present," said Mr. Hildreth; "they got ready to charge, but changed their mind."

"Are they not likely to change it again?" asked his wife.

"Not to the extent of opening battle with us: why should they do so, when they can attain the same end without the least risk to themselves?"

At this moment Luchman straightened up, and, compressing his thin lips, said,

"It is in vain, sahibs; it is death for us to stay here longer; the lives of you all are worth more than the Star of India."

"The life of any one of us is worth more than that."

"Then, sahib, I shall go out and meet Wana Affghar face to face, and offer to give him the diamond, if he will let us go."

"When will you do that?" asked the astonished Avery.

"Now, sahib; let all gather around me where we are not so close to the entrance, and I will make known my plan."

The party quickly grouped themselves near Luchman, who made known his extraordinary scheme.

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE PLEDGE.

Without giving the words of Luchman and the numerous questions and answers that passed, his intentions may thus be described:

The native had racked his brain for some feasible means of getting the fugitives out of the temple and on the road to Kurnal again. But there was no such means. They were surrounded by the Ghoojurs, and as helpless as were the wives and daughters whom Nana Sahib some time afterward shut up and massacred in Cawnpore. Nothing, therefore, remained but to buy off the ruffians.

The ladies learned for the first time that Luchman had in his possession the famous diamond, the Star of India, with which he proposed to ransom them; but they asked how it was possible to do that when dealing with such a conscienceless miscreant as the Ghoojur chieftain.

The guide's recklessness as to his own fate gave him an advantage that he would not have had otherwise. He intended to walk directly out on the plain, and ask an audience with the chieftain, who would be eager enough to grant it. The offer of Luchman would be the surrender of the wonderful gem, on condition that the whole force of Ghoojurs should withdraw, and allow the Feringhees a long start on the way to Kurnal.

When pressed to explain in what manner he would guard against the perfidy of Wana Affghar, the guide said the plan was clear in his mind, but it was not necessary that he should explain it at that time.

"You carry a watch, sahib," said he addressing the surgeon; "when it shows the hour of eight this evening, you and the rest will walk out of the entrance way, turn toward the north, and approach the river, about one fourth of a mile from here. You will keep walking all night, and pay no thought to me. I will join you before morning, if I can, but do not tarry for me. If I fail to appear, press your strength to the utmost. You will not be very far from Kurnal, and by sunrise you ought to be almost safe."

Both the surgeon and the missionary believed that the faithful guide would sacrifice his own life for the rest. How bitterly they reproached themselves that they had ever doubted him! They were inclined to protest, but he would not listen. He went over the instructions again, and, without so much as saying good by, he strode out on the parched plain, until he had crossed the ditch where the assassins concealed themselves the day before.

Luchman was not in fear of trickery at this stage of the proceedings, for Wana Affghar knew better than thus to defeat the realization of his cherished dream: the double dealing would come afterward.

As Luchman anticipated, he was no more than fairly in view when a horseman rode forward to meet him. It was Wana Affghar himself, who, halting beyond range of the deadly guns of the Feringhees, awaited the approach of the footman. Each carried a knife and pistol, but no gun. Their conversation may be liberally translated:

"What is it you want with me?" asked Wana.

"Do you wish the great diamond that is called the Star of India?"

"I do, and I will have it."

"Boast not too soon, for it rests with me whether you shall ever hold it in your palm."

"How can you prevent me, when you and all the Feringhees are in my power?"

"If we fall into your hands the diamond will not."

"How can you save it?"

"The Star of India is hidden where only he who hid it and God himself can find it."

"If I give you the choice of surrendering it to me or suffering torture, what will you do?"

Luchman laughed scornfully.

"Have I been a Hindoo for two score years to care for pain or suffering? Has my Christianity so weakened me that I am become a child? Talk not such language to me. But, Wana Affghar, if you will keep faith with me the Star of India shall be yours: it rests alone with you."

"What do you offer me?" asked the chieftain, whose serpent-like eyes greedily flashed.

"If you will allow the Feringhees in the temple to proceed on their journey, and not try to harm them afterward, I will give you the diamond, which I brought over the Himalayas, and which is but a younger sister of the Koh-i-noor of the Queen of England."

Here was the proposition, clear and unmistakable. Having made it, Luchman looked straight in the face of the Ghoojur chieftain and asked with military curtness,

"Wana Affghar, will you do it?"

The answer was prompt.

"I will do so; hand me the diamond, and you and the Feringhees may go from one end of India to the other without molestation from me or any of mine."

But Luchman was too wise to be entrapped in that manner.

"Listen: if I should take you to the hiding place of the Star of India, and digging it up hand it to you, then your Ghoojurs would turn upon the Feringhees and kill them."

"What do you wish to do?"

"I will deliver it to you after you have fulfilled your promise."

This was a staggering proposal, and the objection of the chieftain was natural.

"Suppose I allow you all to go free, what assurance have I that you will keep your pledge?"

"You have my promise: that is all I will give."

"But I may not be willing to accept that."

"Then do what you choose," was the defiant response. "You may kill us all, but that will not give you the diamond; you may slay me and every one of the Feringhees, but that will not help you to find the diamond for which you have sighed so long, nor will you and the Ghoojurs get much plunder from our bodies. Even if you keep your promise, there remain many miles to be passed before the Feringhees can be beyond danger. It may be that if the diamond is paid to you, it will only avert their death for a few hours, since there are others who will hunt them like tigers in the jungle. But I am willing to do what I promised: if you will withdraw all your men so far away that the Feringhees may have a long start, I will place in your palm the Star of India."

Wana Affghar breathed fast, for already he saw the diamond in his possession. He was in such a mood that he was ready to accept almost any proposition.

"Tell me, Luchman, more plainly what you want me to do."

"You must take all of your men two miles to the southward: I will go with them. You must stay there till twelve o'clock tonight. Then you shall have the Star of India."

Here were the conditions at last. If Wana Affghar and all his Ghoojurs should withdraw for a distance of two miles, and stay there till midnight, the Europeans in the temple would be given all the start they could ask or want. By following the directions of Luchman they could place themselves beyond danger from this particular band. The guide would keep the company of the brigands, as he had proposed, so as to make sure that every condition was fully met before he surrendered the gem.

True, this plan would leave him in a terrible position, but he cared naught for that.

Having made his proposition, Luchman added, indifferently:

"Do as you choose, Wana Affghar, for it makes little difference to me. We have water and provisions in the temple, and we may have help before long from the British cavalry, who are galloping through the country. It is hard for me to give up the Star of India, for which I have risked my life many times. But the ladies are impatient, and I come to you to show the only way by which your eyes can ever rest upon the diamond for which you have hunted so long."

Beyond question, Luchman understood the art of putting things. He made as if to move away, when the Ghoojur chieftain interrupted him:

"It shall be as you wish. You may go with me, and I will tell the plan to my people. Have no fear, for they dare say nothing which does not please me."

The sun was just dropping in the west when the compact was made. The Europeans saw Luchman walk slowly away toward the Ghoojurs under the trees, keeping pace beside the black pony of Wana Affghar, until he could be no longer distinguished among the group.

As if to prove his sincerity, Wana made a signal with his arm toward the four scamps who were crouching in the grass along the stream. Immediately they rose to view, and, by a circuitous route, joined the main body under the trees.

The Ghoojurs scrutinized the new arrival with no little interest, and the situation would have been trying to any one else, but Luchman was as self possessed as when talking with his own friends. He counted the miscreants, and saw that there were just fourteen. It was fair to conclude, therefore, that if the same number, including Wana Affghar, were two miles south of that point at midnight, he had complied with his part of his agreement, and had fairly won the Star of India.

Luchman carefully listened to the leader while he was explaining the agreement made with the native guide, and he never used his eyes with more skill, but he neither heard nor saw anything to cause misgiving. Luchman believed that Wana intended to carry out his part of the agreement, not because he had promised to do so, but because it offered him the only chance to obtain the diamond.

Since there was an abundance of time at command, the Ghoojurs stayed where they were until it began growing dark. Then, when Wana Affghar announced that the start would be made, two of the men walked a short distance to the edge, to the left of the jungle.

The vigilant Luchman asked the meaning of the movement. Their leader answered that they were going only a short way to gather some cooking utensils which they brought with them. They would be back in a few minutes, and Wana suggested that his guest should bear them company, that he might feel sure that no deception was meant.

Luchman took a step to do so, but restrained himself, ashamed to betray such weakness. The two Ghoojurs reappeared almost the next minute, bearing their cooking kit with them.

Ah, Luchman was a cunning Asiatic, but he had already been outwitted by Wana Affghar, and it looked as if he was to become his victim again.

He saw two men come back again, but he noted not in the gathering gloom that the couple which departed were not the couple that returned.

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE RANSOM.

One of the Ghoojurs who left the main party in quest of the cooking kit came back, but his companion was a stranger. The one who did not return knew the whole scheme of Wana Affghar. He was the chieftain's trusted lieutenant, and he went away to carry out a certain agreement that he had made with his leader, in spite of the unceasing watchfulness of Luchman the guide.

Wana was obsequious to his brother, as he called his guest, to the extent even of offering him his pony to ride, but Luchman's sense of propriety would not allow him to accept the kindness. They talked freely, the brigand expressing his belief that British rule in India was ended forever. The Mogul Empire that had been proclaimed a few days before at Delhi would last as long as the sun and stars. The miscreant tried to proselyte the guide to his view of the question, though in the mutiny of 1857 the Ghoojurs were bushwhackers, caring little which cause triumphed, so that it gave them opportunity to gather loot.

Wana Affghar seemed to go beyond his pledge. He had promised to take them two miles from the temple, but he never stopped in the march until he had gone fully double that distance. He was too cunning to call attention to the same, and it need not be said that Luchman held his peace.

They finally halted near a grove of mango trees of large size, whose shadows were heavy enough to hide the company from any others that might pass by. They were near the stream which wound by the temple, where the fugitives were doubtless waiting and wondering whether their deliverance was to be made complete.

The halting place was a good one for resting. They were removed from all huts, houses and highways, and did not seem likely to attract notice from any wanderers through the neighborhood. The Ghoojurs lolled upon the ground, smoking their hookahs, and, as the night advanced, several of them started a large fire. Wana Affghar sat somewhat apart, with Luchman upon the ground close to him. Though the chieftain could not repress his restlessness, the guide was as unmoved as if stretched on his charpoy a thousand miles from all danger.

There was no chronometer in that company of ruffians, but all could note with reasonable accuracy the passage of time. Just before the turn of night, Luchman carefully counted the ruffians. There were precisely fourteen, exclusive of the leader—the exact force that had withdrawn from the vicinity of the temple.

And yet, despite this fact, a misgiving took shape in the mind of Luchman that Wana Affghar, after all, would try to play him false. This dread, however, was founded rather upon his vivid recollection of the clever manner in which the chieftain had dogged him during the past year or so than upon any possible scheme that presented itself to the suspicious native.

"The turn of night has come."

It was Wana Affghar who spoke the words in a sepulchral voice, while he was the embodiment of suppressed emotion.

Just then the two were seated near the fire, the others dawdling about as though unaware of any important transaction pending.

"Yes," quietly replied Luchman as he began calmly passing his fingers through his turban.

Could it be possible that the daring native had walked into the camp of the Ghoojurs bearing that priceless gem about his person? Wana Affghar stared at him dumfounded and almost speechless, and yet, while he was staring, Luchman drew the piece of brown paper from the folds of his head gear, just as he did on the previous occasions described, and took the gem from within.

"There!" he exclaimed, "the bargain is finished!"

As the gem fell into the trembling, outstretched palm, the Ghoojur chieftain fixed his eyes upon it like a bird charmed by a serpent. He sat motionless and rigid as iron, life itself held in suspense.

At last the Star of India was his!

There it lay in his hand, luminous, flaming, variegated in its reflection of the firelight, wonderful, peerless, marvelous. This was the gem for which princes, kings, queens and emperors had fought, and that had caused the death of multitudes in the centuries that were gone.

Here it was—his at last!

Could it be real, or was it another of those tantalizing dreams that had haunted his slumbers for years, until the longing to possess the Star of India became the ruling passion of his life?

Tremulously and in fear he gently closed his fingers, fearful that they would shut upon vacancy, as they had done so many times in the past. But no; there was the round, cold gem, as big as a robin's egg, heavy and substantial—not shadowy, but real.

By and by the spell began to lift, and Wana Affghar became himself again—crafty, cruel, perfidious as Satan himself.

With his gaze still riveted on the diamond, as he slowly opened and closed his hand, he said:

"It is the will of Allah that the Star of India shall be mine, and I accept it bismillah (by the will of God); but the infidel deserves only death. The Feringhees that profaned the temple are prisoners, for, despite the cunning of the dog, Luchman, Ramsurun Duss remained with some of the faithful, and has prevented their flight. Their eyes shall not see the rising of tomorrow's sun, nor shall you, infidel dog, go hence; he who allows Luchman to escape shall lose his head!"

As Wana Affghar emitted the last exclamation in a loud voice, he flung off the spell that had held him motionless, raised his eyes from the sinewy hand that closed fiercely about the gun, and circled it above his head, as a signal for his ruffians to fall upon Luchman and hew him to pieces.

But dekhna! Luchman was not there!

CHAPTER XXXIII.

ASIATIC HONOR.

Luchman the guide was expecting treachery, and he therefore took no chances.

Observing the fixedness of the chieftain's gaze and the spell that held his senses captive, he felt that it was an appropriate time for him to leave. The majority of the Ghoojurs were some yards distant, and they were not likely to interfere, when they had noticed the consideration he received from their leader.

As noiselessly as an Apache he rose to his feet, and, without attracting attention, moved back among the trees until beyond sight of them all. So it came about that, when Wana Affghar spoke the words, Luchman was too far off to hear them.

The latter started toward the river, in the hope of finding his friends with the least possible delay, but before going far he paused.

"Wana Affghar offered me his horse to ride; I will borrow him for the elder lady."

The project was a good one, but its success was not worth the risk involved. He resolved, however, to secure the tough little pony.

It will be recalled that there was but the one animal with the Ghoojurs, and that belonged to the leader himself. Luchman noticed, while in camp, that it was tethered a short distance away, where there was a slight growth of grass. If the animal was still there, he was confident of getting him without difficulty.

Guided by the twinkling light of the camp fire, he approached the spot by a circuitous route. The ground was favorable, and he stealthily crawled through the high jungle grass, which shut him from sight so long as he was flat on the ground. His chief fear was that when the pony saw him, it would utter a whinny or neigh that would warn the Ghoojurs that an enemy was in camp.

He was within twenty feet or so of the animal, when it did the very thing he dreaded. It neighed, and Luchman, who was in the act of rising to his feet, lay down again, until he could learn whether the outcry had attracted the notice of the brigands.

It did not seem to have done so, and, while he was peering through the gloom, he discovered that one of the Ghoojurs was with the steed. Luchman could not understand why he should be there, but the fellow patted his haunches, and spoke soothingly to the animal. A closer view showed the guide that the man was a syce, whose business it was to look after his master's horse.

Finding everything right, the syce moved back in the direction of the camp. The course which he took led him so close to where Luchman crouched that discovery seemed inevitable. The guide silently drew his pistol and awaited him.

But the Ghoojur was not looking for interlopers, and, striding back to camp, he lit his hookah and joined the rest of the smokers, never dreaming by what a narrow chance he took his life with him.

The coast was now clear, and the couchant native in the jungle grass rose upright with a quickness that would have startled the bravest man. Then, without pause or hesitation, he walked to the steed, which probably took him for the syce who had just left, for he merely raised his head, and then resumed grazing.

A rope around his neck was fastened to a stake, a rod or so distant, so that he had all the pasturage needed.

Without stopping to untie the thong, Luchman cut it with his knife, and the pony was at his disposal. Wana Affghar sported a large saddle, which he must have stolen. A minute later Luchman had mounted, and turned the head of the steed away.

The guide had reached a point where it may be said he would have been justified in dismissing all thought of the Ghoojurs, when he checked the animal.

"I have stolen him," he muttered with a feeling akin to dismay, "and though Wana Affghar is my enemy, I have no right to do this thing."

He was holding audience with his conscience.

It did not last long. He wheeled about, rode back, refastened the horse to the stake, and started off again in a much happier frame of mind, since he carried the approval of the inward monitor with him.

During this little by play the Ghoojurs had made search for the native whose death Wana Affghar had commanded, but he was safely beyond their reach, even while still in the vicinity of the camp fire.

Looking up in the moonlit sky, Luchman gave fervent thanks to his Heavenly Father for His protection and care.

"They are far on their way to Kurnal," was his thought of his loved friends; "they have had more than four hours' start; they have walked fast, though the night is very warm. They must be almost a dozen miles on the road; I shall have to hasten, for the distance is long, but I hope to reach them by sunrise."

Less than an hour was occupied in passing the four miles which brought him back to the ruined temple, where he parted with his friends when he went forth to ransom them.

"Can anything have happened to them?" he asked himself, drawing near and conscious of the same vague uneasiness that had troubled him more than once since he saw them.

When he left Ghoojur camp, it was with no thought of stopping at the ruins, but now when they loomed up in the moonlight the desire to enter was irresistible. He strode across the plain until he stood in front of the shaded entrance, through which he, Dr. Avery and Harkins had fled in such hot haste before the pursuing Ghoojurs. The silence of death rested upon them, and the hot air did not rustle a leaf.

"They have gone," reflected Luchman, walking slowly through the arched way; "that which resistance could not do has been done by the Star of India. They have been led out of the valley of death and Heaven will deliver them from further trouble."

His soft footstep gave out a faint echo as he walked toward the interior. A few seconds took him to the larger apartment, where most of the time had been spent by the besieged. The interior was dark, and he guided himself by the sense of feeling.

He pronounced the names of the missionary and Dr. Avery, but there was no answer, as he did not expect there would be. However, as he carried a small box of lucifer matches, brought all the way from Calcutta, he struck one and held it above his head.

The apartment was empty, the prostrate idol lying where it had been overturned by the visitors. There was hardly a sign that the place had been trodden by human feet for a hundred years.

By the aid of the flickering light, Luchman looked at the door opening into the other room—the tomb of George Harkins.

Should he enter that?

Not often did Luchman waver, for he was quick to make up his mind on any matter; but he now hesitated.

Finally he pushed the door aside and struck another match, which he also raised above his head and peered into the breathless darkness, waiting for the tiny flame to illuminate the interior.

Then with a horrified gasp he recoiled.

"Wana Affghar has betrayed us all!"

Only the dead body of poor Harkins was there, and that had been plundered by the Ghoojurs.

It was true: Wana Affghar had played them false.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

TOO LATE!

From the moment Wana Affghar of Puneput solemnly pledged himself to allow the fugitives to go free, in consideration of the Star of India being turned over to him, his brain was busy in devising some means of violating his vow.

Two powerful causes spurred him on. The first was his inherent viciousness and hatred of the Feringhees, and the second the necessity of doing something to placate the ruffians who had served under him during the siege. Despite his self important assertion that none of the Ghoojurs dare question his authority, his discipline was so loose that there would have been open rebellion had he sought to draw them away from the feast with their appetites unsatisfied.

In the face of the vigilance of Luchman, the chief succeeded in making known his whole scheme to Ramsurun Duss, his trusted aid, who gave him all the help he could; for like a true Asiatic, the task was the most congenial one in all the world to him.

Luchman was mistaken in thinking Wana Affghar had received no re-enforcements. He had at least a score of ragged ruffians under his control, and a half dozen of these were lurking in the edge of the jungle, where their presence was unsuspected by the guide. Through the stratagem already described, Ramsurun Duss changed position with one of them, and stayed behind, while Wana Affghar and the rest, accompanied by Luchman, moved several miles down the river.

Wana Affghar told his subordinate that as soon as it was fully dark the Europeans would come out of the temple and start away, though what precise direction they would take could not be conjectured, nor was it needful that it should be known.

The seven Ghoojurs were afraid to make an attack upon those who stayed behind, nor were they required to do so.

They were to steal up to the ruins, and, taking the best positions they could, so as to command the entrance, pour a volley into the Feringhees that would not leave one alive. They would then rush forward and rob the bodies, dividing the loot with the main band that were waiting with Wana Affghar down the river, who were to make their way back to the temple, after Luchman should also be killed.

The Ghoojurs did not know the precise hour fixed for the departure of the fugitives, but they were prompt themselves. It was hardly dark when the wretches stole to their places like so many bees crawling over the ruins. They took the precaution to make a long circuit, and to approach from the rear.

This part of the programme was carried out without break, but so extreme was their caution that it was close upon eight o'clock when the seven crouching figures stationed themselves under the shade of the overhanging trees and dense vegetation, that grew in and out of the ruins of the temple.

With the utmost care and no little skill, each man secured his position.

It was then found that every one was so placed that he could empty his gun into any one of the Feringhees, as he or she came forth. Having no means of knowing of Harkins's death, they expected to see three men, whom they meant to kill first, there being two shots and one to spare.

All in position at last, the Ghoojurs waited patiently, for they were sure the fugitives must soon present themselves. The minutes pass slowly to those who count them, and the Hindoo does not possess the patience of the Esquimau sitting twenty hours at a stretch beside the air hole in the ice, waiting to catch sight of the nose of the seal.

So it goes without saying that when seven ruffians had held their expectant and cramped positions for two full hours, they began to grow petulant, and to wonder what could possibly keep their victims out of sight so long. It could not be that they suspected the danger on the outside, and they must know how important it was that they should start at the earliest moment they could.

That the Europeans were within the temple on the arrival of the assassins was certain, since the murmur of their voices was plainly heard.

What, then, meant the delay?

A couple of the miscreants approached Ramsurun Duss and questioned him. He was as impatient as they, and declared that if their victims did not soon appear he would lead his followers into the refuge after them.

The rest were hardly prepared for this, and one proposed they should go after re-enforcements before undertaking so perilous a task. Ramsurun Duss replied that they had more than enough, and a larger number would make too small a share of the loot.

He did not wish any more to be admitted on the "ground floor."

This statement kept matters quiet for another half hour, when the same Ghoojurs threaded their way to the side of their leader to learn what he meant to do.

He was in ill humor, and declared that he would not wait much longer. Since he was the most courageous of the party, he took upon himself the task of learning why the Europeans persisted in staying within the temple.

At last the ruffian decided to steal through the arched way. If challenged he would say that he was a messenger from Luchman, who sent word that they must not delay their departure another minute, as every hour added to their peril. Since the missionary spoke Hindustani, there would be no trouble in communicating with him, and Ramsurun Duss was sanguine of completely deceiving the good man.

In the event of being suspected, or if violent hands were laid upon him, he would make an outcry that was to be answered by a rush on the part of the rest of the Ghoojurs.

It cannot be said that the subordinate relished this part of the undertaking; but he considered detection so unlikely that it was practically out of the question. Besides, he wished to set the example to his men which they needed.

The first thing Ramsurun Duss did was to creep to one of the circular openings which served for windows. There he listened for several minutes. He fancied he heard whispered voices, but further attention convinced him he was mistaken. The stillness within was as profound as the grave.

"They are asleep," he said, in an undertone, to those around him; "we will all enter together, and leap upon them before they can awake."

But the others objected. They could not see the wisdom of exposing themselves to so much danger. More likely the Feringhees were making a pretense of unconsciousness, so as to draw them into a trap.

Their leader became savage at the cowardice of his men. He declared that he would manage the whole business himself, and would keep all the loot of the Feringhees.

With this parting threat he straightway entered upon his own campaign.

Picking his way down from where he was perched above the roof of the temple, he reached the arched entrance, as he believed, without betraying himself. When he came to look into the black, gaping mouth, which resembled the throat of some enormous piece of ordnance, he stood still for a full minute.

Some of his comrades had ventured too near that place during the past two days, and paid dearly for their temerity. Did a similar fate await him?

But he would not go back to his men, confessing that he was afraid. He stole swiftly through the passage way, until the larger apartment was reached.

Those on the outside were not kept waiting long, when he reappeared, gnashing his teeth and execrating.

"Too late," he exclaimed; "the Feringhees are gone!"

CHAPTER XXXV.

EUREKA!

As soon as the Ghoojurs learned that the Europeans had fled, their courage came back, and they made a scrambling rush for the interior of the temple. A brief search proved the truth of their leader's declaration, the only objects found being the overturned idol and the inanimate body of Harkins. The latter was plundered so shamelessly that it told the truth to Luchman the moment his eyes fell upon it.

The Feringhees had departed, and, when the Ghoojurs found that nothing remained for them to do, they took up their march to the camp of Wana Affghar, which they reached a half hour after the departure of Luchman the guide.

The time has come in to make an explanation.

Going back a few hours in the thread of our narrative, the reader will remember that Dr. Avery and the family of the missionary were grouped together in the passage way, watching the meeting between Luchman and Wana Affghar. Not an eye was removed until the departure of their friend in the company of the Ghoojur chieftain.

They could not mistake the meaning of what they saw. The bargain had been struck between the two. The fugitives must remain within the temple until the hour fixed upon by Luchman for their departure.

"If nothing is seen or heard of them," said the surgeon, "by the time it is dark we shall gain the start that ought to secure safety for us all. But I wouldn't give much for the life of Luchman after he parts with the diamond."

At this juncture, while the conversation was of no special interest, Marian related her singular experience of the night before. Avery was interested at once.

"Have you any idea of the hour?" he asked.

"It must have been near midnight,—perhaps a little later."

"Are you sure of that?"

"As sure as I can be of anything."

"Then you are altogether mistaken in supposing it was Luchman. He can prove an alibi. There was not a minute from the time you withdrew to rest, or rather from the time he fired the pistol that you all heard, that he was not within my reach and under my eye. Not once did he pass inside."

"Who then could it have been?"

"A stranger."

"But he could not have come through the archway without being seen by one of you."

"He didn't come through it. My friends," said the surgeon, "that confirms a suspicion which I have entertained all along. There is some communication with the temple of which we know nothing."

"What can it be?"

"It is subterranean, such as you find in hundreds of buildings, in every country. I have no doubt it leads to the river bank, and was constructed with a view of allowing the priests and fakirs of the temple to go in and out unknown to others."

"But why was it not used against us?" asked the missionary.

"It may not have been known to Wana Affghar; some of his men, no doubt the guard along the river bank, stumbled upon it, and one of them explored it to find out whether it could be used. They didn't tell their leader, or, if they did, the old wretch must have seen that it was unknown to us. As a consequence, he has simply guarded the outlet."

"I wonder that it has not been employed against us."

"I believe it would have been used tonight, but for this ransom business. Wana Affghar is such a scoundrel that I am convinced he will attack us if we leave by the regular way. Let us hunt for the underground passage."

"I agree with you," remarked Mr. Hildreth, much impressed by what was said.

"Keep watch, then, for a few minutes, while I make search for it," said Avery, hurrying away in considerable excitement.

The story of Marian Hildreth proved that the intruder of the night before came from the larger apartment into the smaller, so that the opening must be looked for in the former. There, then, the doctor began his explorations.

He first stamped upon the floor, treading upon every portion of the stone and cement, and listening for the hollow sound which tells of the excavation below.

After making a complete circuit, he thought he detected this peculiarity near one of the corners, though it was not pronounced. He struck a light and carefully scrutinized the floor, but saw nothing to explain the phenomenon.

"In whatever way he entered, he did not come up through the floor. Since the opening can't be in the roof, it must be in the wall."

The same manipulation was repeated around the sides of the apartment. The only portion that gave the hollow response was in the corner where he had observed it before.

"It is here," he concluded, striking another match.

Eureka! he had found it. There were the divisions, so plainly marked that every one of the fugitives must have seen them before but for the dim light in the room. They had pressed against the door many times, but it was less yielding than the one which let them into the inner apartment.

It was not until he had pushed against it with all his might, that it slowly swung inward, the draught of air extinguishing the match he had just lighted. Igniting another, he shaded it with his hand and peered into the recess beyond.

At the bottom of the heavy door were three steps, leading down into the darkness. The draught that blew inward proved that it was connected with the outside world, and the surgeon had no doubt that the underground passage extended in a direct line to the river.

He hastened back to his friends with the announcement.

"If we had only known that last night," said Mr. Hildreth, "we might have gone right out of the temple.

"And right into an ambush."

"We may do that as it is, for it is difficult to understand why Wana Affghar has withdrawn his guard."

"They may not have told him."

"It lacks a half hour of eight," said Avery, leaning forward so as to let the moonlight fall on the face of his watch.

"I believe we should use the way that has been so providentially opened."

It was while this conversation was going on that Ramsurun Duss and his Ghoojurs stationed themselves about the entrance to the temple.

Mr. Hildreth and Dr. Avery thought best to look further into the tunnel before making use of it.

While the elder held the door open, the younger ventured down, and groped his way for fifty feet or so from the building. He was amazed by the perfection of the structure. The passage way was about three feet wide and almost twice as high. Top, bottom and sides were lined with the same excellent cement that was so plentifully used throughout the temple itself. It was hard and smooth, and during this dry season everything was as free as powder from moisture.

No public building could have required a better hallway than that along which the surgeon traveled for some distance.

"If it is like this all the way, it is a more pleasant means of egress than across the plain in the moonlight."

Listening for a few seconds it seemed that he caught the flow of water at the further end, but it was probably the absence of all sound, such as often deceives us when a shell is held to the ear.

When Avery came back and reported his discovery to the others, it was almost eight o'clock. He walked to the front of the archway and looked out to see whether the coast was clear. All seemed favorable and there was no call for further delay.