alute of twenty-one guns
was fired by two troops of artillery from Meerut in front of the
palace, and the wild multitudes again strained their throats. To the
thunder of artillery, the strains of martial music and the shouting of
the people, the gates of the palace were flung open, and Prince Mirza
Mogul, with his brother, Prince Abu Beker, at the head of the royal
bodyguard, rode forth, the king following in an open chariot,
surrounded by his bodyguard.

With impressive slowness this strange procession made its way through
the principal street, the populace becoming as frantic as so many ghost
dancers. Finally a halt was made at the Juma Musjeed, the largest
mosque in India, where the banner of the Prophet was unfurled and the
Mogul Empire proclaimed.

CHAPTER II.

ON AN AFTERNOON.

Almost due east from Delhi Dr. Hugh Marlowe, a venerable American
physician, had lived for more than twenty years. Since the death of
his wife, six years previous to the Mutiny, he had dwelt alone with his
only daughter, Mary, and their single servant, Mustad, a devout
Mussulman. A portion of the time mentioned had been passed without the
society of his beloved child, who spent several years in New England
(where the physician himself was born and had received his education)
at one of the fashionable schools.

Shortly after her graduation, Miss Marlowe met Jack Everson, fresh from
Yale, and the acquaintance ripened into mutual love, though the filial
affection of the young woman was too profound to permit her to form an
engagement with the young man until the consent of her father was
obtained, and he would not give that consent until he had met and
conversed with the young gentleman face to face and taken his measure,
as may be said.

"If he doesn't esteem you enough to make a little journey like the one
from America to this country he isn't worth thinking about."

"But he _will_ make the journey," said the blushing daughter, patting
the bronzed cheek of the parent whom she idolized as much as he
idolized her.

"Don't be to sure of that, my young lady; romantic young girls like you
have altogether too much faith in the other sex."

"But he _has_ started," she added with a sly smile.

"He has, eh? He will change his mind before he reaches here. How far
has he got?"

"He was due in England many weeks ago."

"Well, well! How soon will he arrive _here_?"

"I think he is due now."

"Very probably, but his fancy