ore religious than anything else, though in one or two instances
it was attended by tragedy. There was a young native prince who was a
great friend of mine and he was about to be married to a princess who
was as bright and intelligent as himself. She had been educated like
himself in Europe, so that they were free from a deal of superstition
and prejudice. The prince was dining at my bungalow one night when I
noticed a little bullet of salt on his plate. It was useless to ask him
how it got there for one could never have elicited the truth from any of
the native servants. My friend got dreadfully pale for a moment, but he
turned it off and he thought no more about the matter. But the next day
the prince was found dead in his bed; he had shot himself with a
revolver."

"And you never got to the bottom of it?" Field asked with pardonable
curiosity.

"Never. There are mysteries in India that puzzle us as much as they did
in the good old days of John Company. What's that noise?"

There was a sound like the rumble of wheels along the hall, and
presently appeared a kind of invalid chair, self-propelled by its
occupant, a little man with a pale face and dark eyes. He paused before
the dining-room door and rattled the handle.

"Evidently the master of the house," Berrington suggested. "The lame man
who can't walk. It was he who sent the message to Richford."

"Sure enough," Field exclaimed. "Must have been in the abduction
business. Evidently the same gentleman who was waiting in the black cab
outside the _Royal Palace_. Rather a nice looking man, with by no means
unpleasant face. Hope they won't shut the door upon him."

Somebody opened the dining-room door at this moment and the lame man
steered himself in. Where he had come from was a mystery, as the house
had appeared to be quite empty when Berrington and his companion entered
it. Clearly the man could not have come from the upper part of the
premises, for his physical condition disposed of that suggestion.

"Well, my friends," the newcomer cried gaily, "very glad to see you all
safe and sound again. So our little scheme has not been a failure.
Richford, judging from the gloom on your brow, you have not had the luck
you desire. You must be content with the knowledge that virtue brings
its own reward. And yet if you only knew it you are the most fortunate
of men. For your sweet sake we have undertaken difficulties and dangers
that----"

"Oh, shut up," Richford growl