Kathlyn understood. She shook her head. Umballa should end his days in the treadmill; he should grind the people's corn. Nothing should stir her from this determination.
"Majesty, and what of me?" cried the unhappy woman, now filled with another kind of remorse.
"You shall return to the zenana for the present."
"Then I am not to die, Majesty?"
"No."
"And Bala Khan?" inquired the priest.
"He shall stand prepared; that is all."
The people, crowding in the temple and in the square before it, salaamed deeply as Kathlyn left and returned to the palace. She was rather dizzy over the success of her inspiration. A few days might pass without harm; but sooner or later they would discover that she had tricked them; and then, the end. But before that hour arrived they would doubtless find some way of leaving the city secretly.
That it would be many days ere Pundita wore the crown—trust the priests to spread the meshes of red tape!—Kathlyn was reasonably certain.
"My girl," said the colonel, "you are a queen, if ever there was one. And that you should think of such a simple thing when we had all given up! They would not have touched Umballa. Kit, Kit, whatever will you do when you return to the humdrum life at home?"