o the entrance. Silently one of the lacquered
panels slid open and Chunda Lal entered. He saluted the figure of
the veiled Chinaman but never once glanced in the direction of the
_diwan_ from which Miska wildly was watching him.

Without turning his head, Fo-Hi, who seemed to detect the presence
of the silent Hindu by means of some fifth sense, pointed to a bundle
of long rods stacked in a corner of the room.

His brown face expressionless as that of a bronze statue, Chunda Lal
crossed and took the rods from their place.

_"Tum samajhte ho?"_ (Do you understand?) said Fo-Hi. Chunda Lal
inclined his head.

_"Main tumhari bat manunga"_ (Your orders shall be obeyed), he
replied.

"Ah, God! no!" whispered Miska--"what are you going to do?"

"Your Hindustani was ever poor, Miska," said Fo-Hi.

He turned to Chunda Lal.

"Until you hear the gong," he said in English.

Miska leapt to her feet, as Chunda Lal, never once glancing at her,
went out bearing the rods, and closed the door behind him. Fo-Hi
turned and confronted her.

_"Ta'ala hina_ (come hither), Miska!" he said softly. "Shall I speak
to you in the soft Arab tongue? Come to me, lovely Miska. Let me feel
how that sorrowful heart will leap like a captive gazelle."

But Miska shrank back from him, pale to the lips.

"Very well." His metallic voice sank to a hiss. "I employ no force.
You shall yield to me your heart as a love offering. Of such motives
as jealousy and revenge you know me incapable. What I do, I do with a
purpose. That compassion of yours shall be a lever to cast you into
my arms. Your hatred you shall conquer."

"Oh, have you no mercy? Is there _nothing_ human in your heart? Did I
say I hate you!"

"Your eyes are eloquent, Miska. I cherish two memories of those
beautiful eyes. One is of their fear and loathing--of _me;_ the other
is of their sweet softness when they watched the departure of my guest.
Listen! Do you hear nothing?"

In an attitude of alert and fearful attention Miska stood listening.
Fo-Hi watched her through the veil with those remorseless blazing eyes.

"I will open the door," he said smoothly, "that we may more fully
enjoy the protests of one for whom you 'care nothing'--of one whose
lips have pressed--your hand."

He opened the door by which Chunda Lal had gone out and turned again
to Miska. Her eyes looked unnaturally dark by contrast with the pallor
of her face.

Chunda Lal had betrayed her. She no longer doubte