And whether he were dead
or living, she knew well enough that the vengeance would be wreaked on
every living body on the hill. Alwa might feel confident, not she. She
trembled now with joy at the thought that she--she the most helpless and
useless of all of them--might save the lives of all.

But then another phase of the problem daunted her. She might help
Jaimihr go. He might escape unobserved with her aid. But then? What
then? What would the Rangars do to her? Had she sufficient courage to
face that? It was not fear now that swept over her so much as wonder at
herself. Jaimihr detected something different in her mental attitude,
and, since almost any change means weakness to the Oriental mind, he
was quick to try to take advantage of it. He guessed right at the first
attempt.

"And what wilt thou do here, sahiba? When I am gone, and there is none
here to love thee--"

"Peace!" she commanded. "Peace! I have suffered enough--"

"Thou wilt suffer more, should the Rangars learn--"

"That is my business! Let me pass! I have bargained, and I will try to
fulfil my part!"

She stepped toward the door, but he held out both his arms and she saw
them. She had no intention of being embraced by him, whatever their
conspiracy.

"Stand back!" she ordered.

"Nay, nay, sahiba! Listen! Escape with me! These Rangars will not
believe without proof that thou hast saved their lives by bargaining.
They will show thee short shrift indeed when my loss is discovered. Come
now and I will make thee Maharanee in a week!"

"I would be as safe with one as with the other!" she laughed, something
of calm reflection returning to her. "And what proof have I in any case
that you will keep your word, Jaimihr-sahib. I will keep mine--but who
will keep yours, that has been so often broken?"

"Sahiba--"

"Show me a proof!"

"Here--now--in this place?"

"Convince me, if you can! I will give myself willingly if I can save my
father by it and these Rangars and Mr. Cunningham; but your bare word,
Jaimihr-sahib, is worth that!"

She snapped her fingers, and he swore beneath his breath. Then he
remembered his ambition and his present need, and words raced to his
aid--words, plans, oaths, treachery, and all the hundred and one tricks
that he was used to. He found himself consciously selecting from a dozen
different plans for tricking her.

"Sahiba"--he spoke slowly and convincingly. In the gloom she could
see his brown eyes levelled straight