“I think you may console yourself, then,” said Beg. “I was guided by her white dress, and I feel sure she fell.”
“So far that is satisfactory, but take further steps to learn,” replied Moghul. Then, turning to Bukht, he said—
“I cannot waste more time—I must go.”
“How do you travel?” asked Bukht, moving towards the door.
“By gharry. It stands there in the compound, and I have a pair of splendid horses, provided for the return journey by the Nana’s head syce (groom).”
Bukht led the way, followed by Moghul and the other men. The building in which they had been sitting was about a hundred yards from the tower. As Jewan reached the foot of the tower he stumbled over something. It was a woman. He stooped down and looked in her face, then uttered a cry of surprise. The face was Wanna Ranu’s. But the woman was stone dead, and there was scarcely a whole bone in her emaciated body.
“This smacks of treason!” Jewan exclaimed, as he hurried to the door of the tower.
He had soon gained the top storey. He had a key of the door of the room in which he had imprisoned Flora. As he entered he gave vent to an imprecation, for she whom he sought was not there. He hurried to the balcony. The broken railings told the tale.
“There has been foul play!” he said, as he turned hurriedly to Moghul, who stood with a look of consternation on his face; for he could not hope to make the King believe that the girl had escaped, and, if he returned without her, he knew he would fall into disgrace.
At this moment there came up a cry from Zeemit Mehal—purposely uttered, for she had heard Jewan’s voice.