VI
“Mem Sahib!”
Moreen opened her eyes. She lay, propped against a saddle, at the camp beside the jungle. She shuddered icily.
“Ramsa Lal—how——”
“I carried the Mem Sahib! the treasures of the temple I restored to their resting-place——”
“And the—the other——”
“The door that the Mem Sahib opened she opened by the decree of Fate. It was not for Ramsa Lal to close it. That is a passage——”
“Yes?”
“—To the tomb of the great one who is buried in the temple!”
“Oh! heavens! that white thing——” She raised her hands to her face. “But—the camp——”
“The camp is deserted! they all fled from——”
Moreen sat up, rigidly.
“From what?”
“From something that came for what we forgot!”
“My husband——”
“There was a ring upon his finger. I saw it, and knew where it came from, but forgot to remove it.”
Moreen stood up, and turned towards the nearer tent. Ramsa Lal gently detained her.
“Not that way, Mem Sahib.”
“But I must see him! I must, I must tell him that he wrongs me, cruelly, wickedly! You heard his words— Oh, God! can he have——”
“It would be useless to tell him, Mem Sahib,—he could not hear you! But that what you would tell him is true I know well; for see—it is the dawn!”
“Ramsa Lal!...”
“The unjust cannot stay in this valley through a night and live to see the dawn, Mem Sahib!”