I can't get her to speak to me at all tonight, Mahommed Khan. She's
terrified almost out of her life at something. But perhaps you can do
better. Try. Do you want to question her alone?"

"By the heavenborn's favor, yes."

Ruth walked down the room toward the window, drew the curtain back and
leaned her head out where whatever breeze there was might fan her cheek.
The Risaldar strode over to where the ayah cowered by an inner doorway.

"She-Hindu-dog!" he growled at her. "Mother of whelps! Louse-ridden
scavenger of sweepings! What part hast thou in all this treachery?
Speak!"

The ayah shrank away from him and tried to scream, but he gripped her by
the throat and shook her.

"Speak!" he growled again.

But his ten iron fingers held her in a vise-like grip and she could not
have answered him if she had tried to.

"O Risaldar!" called Ruth suddenly, with her head still out of the
window. He released the ayah and let her tumble as she pleased into a
heap.

"Heavenborn?"

"What is that red glow on the skyline over yonder?"

"A burning, heavenborn!"

"A burning? What burning? Funeral pyres? It's very big for funeral
pyres!"

"Nay, heavenborn!"

"What, then?"

She was still unfrightened, unsuspicious of the untoward. The Risaldar's
arrival on the scene had quite restored her confidence and she felt
content to ride with him to Jundhra on the morrow.

"Barracks, heavenborn!"

"Barracks? What barracks?"

"There is but one barracks between here and Jundhra."

"Then--then--then--what has happened, Mahommed Khan?"

"The worst has happened, heavenborn!"

He stood between her and the ayah, so that she could not see the woman
huddled on the floor.

"The worst? You mean then--my--my--husband--you don't mean that my
husband--"

"I mean, heavenborn that there is insurrection! All India is ablaze from
end to end. These dogs here in Hanadra wait to rise because they think
the section will return here in an hour or two; then they propose to
burn it, men, guns and horses, like snakes in the summer grass. It is
well that the section will not return! We will ride out safely before
morning!"

"And, my husband--he knew--all this--before he left me here?"

"Nay! That he did not! Had I told him, he had disobeyed his orders and
shamed his service; he is young yet, and a hothead! He will be far
along the road to Jundhra before he knows what burns. And then he will
remember that he trusts me and obey orders and press