lted at such conduct.
Suppose she should come into danger by his doing so, by his making
public the fact that she was warning him? No, he could not do that.
Besides, they were but a few strangers amid a great concourse of
natives. Such an action might give great offence, and place, not only
himself, but his friends in a position of the utmost peril.

These thoughts went through Jack's head in a flash. The girl at his
side gave another light laugh.

"You can find out all you want in so simple a fashion," she murmured.
"Turn your head to the right, and near a patch of acacia bushes you
will see a monk with his begging-bowl. Cross over to him, and drop a
piece of money into the bowl. At the same moment you can take out of
it the letter which your father has sent to you by his hands. I would
fetch it for you, but he will not give it up to anyone but you."

This became more and more bewildering, but at the same time, Jack saw
that this matter was very simply settled. He looked away to the right,
and saw the monk plainly enough, a Buddhist monk in yellow robe, his
begging dish of bronze held out before him. The man stood upright and
motionless, not thirty yards away.

Jack turned on his heel and strode straight across towards the monk,
resolved to see at any rate what was in the dish. The dancing girl
followed him with graceful, swaying step.

At the instant that Jack moved towards the monk a fresh band of
revellers came out of a path leading from the acacia bushes and
crossed towards the steps of the pagoda. From among them a tall, thin
man dressed in white robes stepped out and moved with long, soft
strides after the young Englishman. His companions lingered and stared
idly about them.

As Jack approached the monk, he saw the latter raise his head and
glance at him meaningly. Then, with a slight movement of the hand,
the monk pointed to the bottom of his bowl. Jack had taken a rupee
from his pocket and stretched out his hand to drop it into the bowl.
As he did so he glanced eagerly into the bronze vessel. A folded piece
of white paper lay in the bottom of it. Jack dropped his coin and
stretched out his hand to seize the paper. But he never touched it.

With horrible swiftness and suddenness, someone clutched him from
behind. Once more he felt his throat in the frightful strangling grip
which had seized him on Rushmere Heath, in far-away England. He tried
to shout, but his half-choked voice was drowned in the sudden