"You might have run away and saved yourself."
King smiled, but he made no reply. He was wondering if there existed any man who could have run away and left one so beautiful and so helpless to the mercies of My Lord the Tiger.
"You are very brave," she continued presently. "What is your name?"
"Gordon King."
"Gordon King," she repeated in a soft, caressing voice. "That is a nice name, but it is not like any name that I have heard before."
"And what is your name?" asked King.
"I am called Fou-tan," she said, and she eyed him intently, as though she would note if the name made any impression upon him.
King thought Fou-Tan a pretty name, but it seemed banal to say so. He was appraising her small, delicate features, her beautiful eyes and her soft brown skin. They recalled to him the weeping queen upon the misty elephant that he had seen in his delirium, and once again there arose within him doubts as to his sanity. "Tell me," he said suddenly. "Did you ever ride through the jungle on a great elephant escorted by soldiers in brass?"
"Yes," she said.
"And you say that you are from Lodidhapura?" he continued.