ing at once into his
hands, lived in the hope of a speedy rescue. It was unfortunate, she
thought, that Colonel Dermot, with his extraordinary knowledge of and
influence over the Bhutanese, had left India. But even without him the
power of the British Empire would be set at once in motion to avenge
this outrage on an Englishwoman. Dermot's understudy, the Assistant
Political Officer, faithless lover though he was, would do all he could
to save her. Assuredly she would not have long to wait.

But as the days dragged by and she still remained a prisoner her heart
sank. She needed all her courage not to lose hope and give way to
despair. For she had always hanging over her the dread of Yuan Shi
Hung's return. But she had resolved to kill herself rather than fall
into his hands, and for that purpose had bribed her cheery, good-natured
attendant to procure a dagger for her. She pretended that she wanted it
as a protection in the lamasery, for the door of her apartments was
without a fastening. Even on the outside there was neither lock nor
bolt, for escape was considered impossible for her. If she got out of
the monastery she would be captured at once in the town.

She was not interfered with and saw no one but her nun. Once or twice
she ventured to creep down to the great temple of the monastery, drawn
by curiosity and the sound of harmonious Buddhist chants intoned by the
lamaic choir. But for her anxiety about her father and her dread of the
_Amban's_ return her worst trial would have been the monotony of her
captivity, were it not that the memory of Wargrave and her unhappy love
caused her many a sleepless night.

With nothing to occupy her mind she hailed the festival of the Devil
Dance as a welcome distraction. Not even the impertinent curiosity of
the spectators could drive her from her balcony. She followed the many
phases with interest, although she could not understand the meaning of
them. For the performance was a curious mixture of religion and
blasphemous mockery, of horse-play and coarse humour as well as a
strange impressiveness. A comic interlude would follow the most solemn
act. Troops of devils burlesqued the sacred rites of the faith, and
bands of comic masks filled the arena at times and delighted the
audience by playing practical jokes on the spectators and each other.
The solitary white woman attracted their clownish humour, and they
danced in front of her balcony, shouting out rude witticisms that ca