"I was in the zenana, Highness, visiting my sister, whom you had transferred from the palace. All at once we heard shouting and trampling of feet, and a moment later your house was overrun with men. They had found the king in the hut and had taken him to the palace. That they did not find you is because you came here."
"Tell me all."
"It seems that the majordomo gave the poison to Ramabai, but the white goddess …"
"The white goddess!" cried Umballa, as if stung by a cobra's fang.
"Ay, Highness. She did not die on that roof. Nothing can harm her. It is written."
"And I was never told!"
She lived, lived, and all the terrors he had evoked for her were as naught! Umballa was not above superstition himself for all his European training. Surely this girl of the white people was imbued with something more than mortal. She lived!
"Go on!" he said, his voice subdued as was his soul.
"The white goddess by mistake took Ramabai's goblet and was about to drink when the majordomo seized the goblet and drained the poison himself. He confessed everything, where the king was, where you were. They are again hunting through the city for you. For the present you must hide with me."
"The white woman must die," said Umballa in a voice like one being strangled.