nded the steps, Fletcher unhesitatingly drawing her
forward. The garden was a marvel of many-coloured lights, intricate and
bewildering as a maze. Its paths were all carpeted, and their feet made
no sound. It was like a dream-world.

Here and there were nooks and glades of deepest shadow. Through one of
these, without a pause, Fletcher led her, emerging at length into a
wonderful fairyland where all was blue--a twilight haunt, where
countless tiny globes of light nestled like sapphires upon every shrub
and tree, and a slender fountain rose and fell tinkling in a shallow
basin of blue stone.

A small arbour, domed and pillared like a temple, stood beside the
fountain, and as they ascended its marble steps a strong scent of
sandalwood fell like a haze of incense upon Beryl's senses.

There was no light within the arbour, and on the threshold instinctively
she stopped short. They were as much alone as if miles instead of yards
separated them from the buzzing crowds about the palace.

Instantly Fletcher spoke.

"Go in, won't you? It isn't really dark. There is probably a couch with
rugs and cushions."

There was, and she sat down upon it, sinking so low in downy luxuriance
that she found herself resting not far from the floor. But, looking out
through the marble latticework into the blue twilight, she was somewhat
reassured. Though thick foliage obscured the stars, it was not really
dark, as he had said.

Fletcher seated himself upon the top step, almost touching her. He
seemed in no hurry to speak.

The only sound that broke the stillness was the babble of the fountain,
and from far away the fitful strains of a band of stringed instruments.

Slowly at length he turned his head, just as his silence was becoming
too oppressive to be borne.

"Mrs. Denvers," he said, his voice very deliberate and even, "I want to
know what happened that day at Farabad to make you decide that I was not
a fit escort for you."

It had come, then. He meant to have a reckoning with her. A sharp tingle
of dismay went through her as she realised it. She made a quick effort
to avert his suspicion.

"I wandered, and lost my way," she said. "And then I met an old native,
who showed me a short cut. I ought, perhaps, to have written and
explained."

"That was not all that happened," Fletcher responded gravely. "Of
course, you can refuse to tell me any more. I am absolutely at your
mercy. But I do not think you will refuse. It isn't treati