such admission escape her. She heard him
chuckle as he drank--he choked from chuckling, and set the jar down
to cough. Then, when he had recovered breath again, he answered almost
patronizingly.

"Which would be least pleased with you, sahiba? The Rangars, or thy
father, or the other Englishman? But never mind, sahiba, we are friends.
I have proved that we are friends. Never have I taken water from the
hands of any man or any woman not of my own caste. I would have died
sooner. It was only thou, sahiba, who could make me set aside my caste."

"Let me pass!"

She certainly was frightened now. It dawned on her, as it had at once on
him, that at the least commotion on his part or on hers a dozen Rangars
would be likely to come running. And just as he had done, she wondered
what explanation she would give in that case, and who would be likely
to believe it. To have been caught going to the cell would have been one
thing; to be caught in it would be another. He divined her thoughts.

"Have no fear, sahiba. Thou and I are friends."

She did not answer, for words would not come. Besides, she was beginning
to realize that words would be of little help to her. A woman who will
tell nothing but the truth under any circumstances and will surely keep
her promises is at a disadvantage when conversing with a man who surely
will not tell the truth if he can help it and who regards his given word
with almost equal disrespect.

"I have no fear, sahiba. I am not afraid to open this door wide and make
a bid for liberty. It would not be wise, that is all, and thou--and I
must deal in wisdom."

His words came through the dark very evenly--spaced evenly--as though
he weighed each one of them before he voiced it. She gathered the
impression that he was thinking for his very life. She felt unable to
think for her own. She felt impelled to listen--incredulous, helpless,
frightened,--not a little ashamed. She was thinking more of the awful
things those Moslem gentlemen would say about her should they come and
discover her in Jaimihr's cell.

"Listen, sahiba! From end to end of India thy people are either dead, or
else face to face with death. There is no escape anywhere for any man or
woman--no hope, no chance. The British doom is sealed. So is the doom of
every man who dared to side with them."

She shuddered. But she had to listen.

"There will be an army here within a day or two. My men--and I number
them by thousands--will come