He made the elephant kneel and slipped off to the ground.
"Barely two hours ago," replied the engineer. "A fire broke out in the jungle at the south edge of the garden—probably started purposely to draw everyone away from the bungalows and factory. The manager, Daleham, and I went there to superintend the men fighting the flames. In our absence a party of ten or twenty Bhuttia swordsmen rushed the house. Miss Daleham had just returned from her ride. Poor girl!"
He broke down and began to cry.
"Pull yourself together man!" exclaimed Dermot in disgust. "Go on. What happened?"
"They seized and bound her," continued the Bengali, mastering his emotion. "These cowards"—with a wave of his hand he indicated the servants—"did nothing to protect her. Only the syce attempted to resist, and they killed him."
He pointed to the prostrate man.
"They tried to bear her off on her pony, but it took fright and bolted. Then they tied poles to a chair brought from the bungalow and carried her away in it."
"Didn't the servants give the alarm?" asked Dermot.
"No; they remained hiding in their quarters until we came. A coolie woman, who saw the raiders from a distance, ran to us and told us. Fred went mad, of course. He wanted to follow the Bhuttias, but I pointed out that it was hopeless."
"Hopeless? Why?"