"They have gone, sahib," was the answer of Luchman. "If they come back it will be to kill you. They hate you. They hate all the Inglese. They would try to kill me if they knew I was your friend. But I have something else to tell you."
"I am listening."
"Sahib, the daughter of the missionary will never be your wife."
"Why not?"
"You, sahib, will never see her again."
Dr. Avery flushed. All disposition to jest was gone, and he was indignant that this native dare utter an expression that sounded very like a threat.
"How dare you show such insolence to me? Do you imagine that you and all your brother scoundrels are strong enough to turn me back? Naught but the will of Heaven itself shall keep me from entering Delhi tomorrow, and seeing my intended wife face to face."
But the young surgeon was in error. Luchman did not mean to threaten, but to warn him of a danger which as yet was only dimly suspected.
"This is the month of May, sahib," said the native, looking him quietly in the face and paying no heed to his angry words, "and on the last day there will be a rising of the Mussulmans and Hindoos of India. All the regiments will turn on their English officers and kill them, their wives and children. The Mogul Empire will be proclaimed, and the Raj of the English will be rooted out of Hindostan."
These were fearful words, and the native was sincere, though why he should have taken this means of making known, or why he should have made known the impending revolt at all, was more than Dr. Avery could understand.