Englishwoman makes tea. As Hilda said, she will boil her Etna on
Vesuvius. We waited and drank our tea; we drank our tea and waited.
A full hour passed away. Ram Das never came back. I began to get
frightened.

At last something stirred. A group of excited men in yellow robes issued
forth from the monastery, wound their way down the hill, and approached
us, shouting. They gesticulated as they came. I could see they looked
angry. All at once Hilda clutched my arm: "Hubert," she cried, in an
undertone, "we are betrayed! I see it all now. These are Tibetans, not
Nepaulese." She paused a second, then went on: "I see it all--all, all.
Our guide--Ram Das--he HAD a reason, after all, for getting us into
mischief. Sebastian must have tracked us; he was bribed by Sebastian! It
was HE who recommended Ram Das to Sir Ivor!"

"Why do you think so?" I asked, low.

"Because--look for yourself; these men who come are dressed in yellow.
That means Tibetans. Red is the colour of the Lamas in Nepaul; yellow
in Tibet and all other Buddhist countries. I read it in the book--The
Buddhist Praying Wheel, you know. These are Tibetan fanatics, and, as
Ram Das said, they will probably cut our throats for us."

I was thankful that Hilda's marvellous memory gave us even that moment
for preparation and facing the difficulty. I saw in a flash that she
was quite right: we had been inveigled across the frontier. These moutis
were Tibetans--Buddhist inquisitors--enemies. Tibet is the most jealous
country on earth; it allows no stranger to intrude upon its borders.
I had to meet the worst. I stood there, a single white man, armed only
with one revolver, answerable for the lives of two English ladies,
and accompanied by a cringing out-caste Ghoorka cook and half-a-dozen
doubtful Nepaulese bearers. To fly was impossible. We were fairly
trapped. There was nothing for it but to wait and put a bold face on our
utter helplessness.

I turned to our spoilt child. "Lady Meadowcroft," I said, very
seriously, "this is danger; real danger. Now, listen to me. You must do
as you are bid. No crying; no cowardice. Your life and ours depend upon
it. We must none of us give way. We must pretend to be brave. Show one
sign of fear, and these people will probably cut our throats on the spot
here."

To my immense surprise, Lady Meadowcroft rose to the height of the
situation. "Oh, as long as it isn't disease," she answered, resignedly;
"I'm not much afraid of anythin