she follow him without a struggle?"

"Yes. But would a struggle have done any good?"

Bruce took out his wallet and counted out a thousand rupees in Bank of
India notes. "Now, listen. Umballa must not know that I know. On
your head, remember."

"Huzzor, the word of a Brahmin."

"Ah, yes; but I have lived long here. Where is Ali?" cried Bruce,
turning to one of his men.

"He went into the city this morning, Sahib, and has not returned."

"Come," said Bruce to the waiting Brahmin, "We'll return together." He
now felt no excitement at all; it was as if he had been immersed in ice
water. It was Kathlyn, not the least doubt of it, bought and sold in
the slave mart. Misery, degradation . . . then he smiled. He knew
Kathlyn Hare. If he did not come to her aid quickly she would be dead.

Now, when Umballa took her into his house, Kathlyn was determined to
reveal her identity. She had passed through the ordeals; she was, in
law, a queen, with life and death in her hands.

"Do not touch me!" she cried slowly in English.

Umballa stepped back.

"I am Kathlyn Hare, and if all the world is not made up of lies and
wickedness, I am the queen you yourself made. I can speak a few words,
enough to make myself known to the populace. I will make a bargain
with you. I will give you five times five thousand rupees if you will
deliver me safely in Peshawer. On my part, I promise to say nothing,
nothing."

Umballa raised both his hands in astonishment. He knew now why that
form had stirred his recollection.

"You!" He laughed and clapped his hands to summon his servants.
Kathlyn, realizing that it was useless to attempt to move this man,
turned and started to run, but he intercepted her. "My queen, my bride
that was to be, the golden houri! Five times five thousand rupees
would not purchase a hair of your head."

"I am your queen!" But she said it without heart.

"What! Do you believe that? Having passed the ordeals you nullified
the effect by running away. You will be whatever I choose! Oh, it
will be legally done. You shall go with me to the council, and the
four of us shall decide. Ah, you would not be my wife!"

"You shall die, Durga Ram," she replied, "and it will be the death of a
pariah dog."

"Ah! Still that spirit which I loved. Why, did I not buy you without
knowing who you were? Are you not mine? At this very moment I could
place you in my zenana and who would ever know? And soon y