m point to point of her brain, revealing,
illuminating.

That figure on the verandah and the unknown man of the bazaar were one.
It was Rustam Karin whom she had seen that night--Rustam Karin,
Everard's trusted friend and ally--the Rajah's tool also though Everard
would never have it so--and (she was certain of it now with that
certainty which is somehow all the greater because without proof) this
was the man who had followed Ralph Dacre to Kashmir and lured him to his
death. This was the beast of prey who when the time was ripe would
destroy Everard Monck also.

CHAPTER IV

THE FLAMING SWORD

The conviction which came upon Stella on that night of chequered
starlight was one which no amount of sane reasoning could shake. She
made no attempt to reopen the subject with Everard, recognizing fully
the futility of such a course; for she had no shadow of proof to support
it. But it hung upon her like a heavy chain. She took it with her
wherever she went.

More than once she contemplated taking Tommy into her confidence. But
again that lack of proof deterred her. She was certain that Tommy would
give no credence to her theory. And his faith in Monck--his wariness,
his discretion--was unbounded.

She did question Peter with regard to Rustam Karin, but she elicited
scant satisfaction from him. Peter went but little to the native bazaar,
and like herself had never seen the man. He appeared so seldom and then
only by night. There was a rumour that he was leprous. This was all that
Peter knew.

And so it seemed useless to pursue the matter. She could only wait and
watch. Some day the man might emerge from his lair, and she would be
able to identify him beyond all dispute. Peter could help her then. But
till then there was nothing that she could do. She was quite helpless.

So, with that shrinking still strongly upon her that made all mention of
Ralph Dacre's death so difficult, she buried the matter deep in her own
heart, determined only that she also would watch with a vigilance that
never slackened until the proof for which she waited should be hers.

The weeks had begun to slip by with incredible swiftness. The tragedy of
Ermsted's death had ceased to be the talk of the station. Tessa had gone
back to her mother who still remained a semi-invalid in the Ralstons'
hospitable care. Netta's plans seemed to be of the vaguest; but Home
leave was due to Major Ralston the following year, and it seemed likely
that she