life. He had cut out that deadly bite with a
swiftness and a precision that had removed all danger of snake-poison,
and in so doing he had exposed the secret which he had guarded so long
and so carefully. The first moment of contact had betrayed him to Peter,
but Peter was very loyal. Had he been the only one to recognize him, the
secret would have been safe. He had done his best to guard it, but Fate
had been against them. And the _mem-sahib_--the _mem-sahib_ had turned
and gone away as one heart-broken.

Peter yearned to comfort her, but the whole situation was beyond him. He
could only mount guard in silence. Perhaps--presently--the great _sahib_
himself would come, and make all things right again. The night was
advancing. Surely he would come soon.

Barely had he begun to hope for this when the door he guarded was opened
slightly from within. His _mem-sahib_, strangely white and still, looked
forth.

"Peter!" she said gently.

He was up in a moment, bending before her, his black eyes glowing in the
dim light.

She laid her slender hand upon his shoulder. She had ever treated him
with the graciousness of a queen. "How is your wound?" she asked him in
her soft, low voice. "Has it been properly bathed and dressed?"

He straightened himself, looking into her beautiful pale face with the
loving reverence that he always accorded her. "All is well, my
_mem-sahib_," he said. "Will you not be graciously pleased to rest?"

She shook her head, smiling faintly--a smile that somehow tore his
heart. She opened her door and motioned him to enter. "I think I had
better see for myself," she said. "Poor Peter! How you must have
suffered, and how splendidly brave you are! Come in and let me see what
I can do!"

He hung back protesting; but she would take no refusal, gently but
firmly overruling all his scruples.

"Why was the doctor not sent for?" she said. "I ought to have thought of
it myself."

She insisted upon washing and bandaging his wound anew. It was a deep
one. Necessity had been stern, and Everard had not spared. It had bled
freely, and there was no sign of any poisonous swelling. With tender
hands Stella treated it, Peter standing dumbly submissive the while.

When she had finished, she arranged the injured arm in a sling, and
looked him in the eyes.

"Peter, where is the captain _sahib_?"

"He went to his room, my _mem-sahib_," said Peter. "Bernard _sahib_
carried the little missy _sahib_ back, and Denve