She drew back from him, clenching and unclenching her jewelled fingers and glaring madly into his eyes.
"Look, Miska!" He took the gold chain and amulet from his bosom. "Your token! Can you not understand! Yah Allah! how little you trust me— and I would die for one glance of your eyes!
"He—Stuart Sahib—has gone, gone long since!"
"Ah! Chunda Lal!"
Miska swayed dizzily and extended her hands towards him. Chunda Lal glanced fearfully about him.
"Did I not," he whispered, with an intense ardour in his soft voice,— "did I not lay my life, my service, all I have, at your feet? Did I not vow to serve you in the name of Bhowani! He is long since gone to bring his friends—who are searching from house to house along the river. At any moment they may be here!"
Miska dropped weakly upon her knees before him and clasped his hand.
"Chunda Lal, my friend! Oh, forgive me!" Her voice broke. "Forgive …"
Chunda Lal raised her gently.
"Not upon your knees to me, Miska. It was a little thing to do—for you. Did I not tell you that he had cast his eyes upon you? Mine was the voice you heard to cry out. Ah! you do not know; it is to gain time that I seem to serve him! Only this, Miska"—he revealed the blade of a concealed knife—"stand between Fo-Hi and—you! Had I not read it in his eyes!"