“Then I must endeavour to find her, for she has a claim, for her father’s sake, upon my assistance. But, certainly, for the moment,” he observed, with a somewhat melancholy smile, “I am myself in the greatest need of protection.”
“I believe you may be perfectly easy in your mind as to this lady. My friend, Prince Tchajawadse, has just now ridden over to Anar Kali in order, at my request, to look after the lady.”
He had not concluded the sentence when the tall form of the Prince made its appearance at the entrance of the tent. His downcast face presaged no good news. He advanced to Heideck and shook his hand.
“I am not, unfortunately, the bearer of any good news, comrade. I have not discovered the lady whose guardian you are.”
“What! Has she left? And you could not learn whither she is gone?”
“All that I have been able to elicit is that she was driven off in an elegant carriage, in the company of several Indians. An English lady who saw the occurrence told me this.”
A fearful dread overcame Heideck.
“In the company of Indians? And does nobody know whither she was taken? Did she leave no message for me or anyone else?”
“The lady had no opportunity of speaking to her. She saw the departure at a distance.”
“But she must have noticed whether Mrs. Irwin left the mausoleum of her own free will or under compulsion?”