Ralph--" She broke off
shuddering and clinging to him. It was the first time she had ever
spoken of her first husband by name to him.

He dried the tears upon her cheeks. "My own girl, you needn't be
afraid," he said, and though his words were kind she wondered at the
grimness of his voice. "I am not the sort of person to be disposed of in
that way. Shall we talk of something less agitating? I can't have you
crying on our wedding-night."

His tone was repressive. She was conscious of a chill. Yet it was a
relief to turn from the subject, for she recognized that there was small
satisfaction to be derived therefrom. The sun was setting moreover, and
it was growing cold. She let him lead her back into the bungalow, and
they presently sat down at the table that Peter had prepared with so
much solicitude.

Later they lingered for awhile on the verandah, watching the blazing
stars, till it came to Monck that his bride was nearly dropping with
weariness and then he would not suffer her to remain any longer.

When she had gone within, he lit a pipe and wandered out alone into the
starlight, following the deserted road that led to the Rajah's summer
palace.

He paced along slowly with bent head, deep in thought. At the great
marble gateway that led into the palace-garden he paused and stood for a
space in frowning contemplation. A small wind had sprung up and moaned
among the cypress-trees that overlooked the high wall. He seemed to be
listening to it. Or was it to the hoot of an owl that came up from the
valley?

Finally he drew near and deliberately tapped the ashes from his
half-smoked pipe upon the shining marble. The embers smouldered and went
out. A black stain remained upon the dazzling white surface of the stone
column. He looked at it for a moment or two, then turned and retraced
his steps with grim precision.

When he reached the bungalow, he turned into the room in which they had
dined; and sat down to write.

Time passed, but he took no note of it. It was past midnight ere he
thrust his papers together at length and rose to go.

The main passage of the bungalow was bright with moonlight as he
traversed it. A crouching figure rose up from a shadowed doorway at his
approach. Peter the Great looked at him with reproach in his eyes.

Monck stopped short. He accosted the man in his own language, but Peter
made answer in the careful English that was his pride.

"Even so, _sahib_, I watch over my _mem-sahib_ u