Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, September 23, 1899, Page 2

CHAPTER XIV—(Continued.) But Djella, whose eagle eyes nothing escaped, cut off his retreat. “My lord governor,” she said, “recall, I pray you, our friend, Sir Edward Malcolm.” “Sir Edward,” repeated the governor, “the princess does you the honor to re eali you near her.” Edward retraced his steps. Saluting him, Djella said, with the utmost sweetness: “Your brother, Sir Edward, promised. to be present this evening with Miss Agnes, his betrothed. Sir George is not here to keep his word, and 1 pray you fill his place.” Agnes, trembling, felt herself almost fainting, and compelled to sustain her- self by leaning heavily on Sir Edward's arm. rincess,” he said, bowing low, “Ll have the honor to present to you Miss Agnes and Miss Hera Burtell, my fath- ers W a rd, say to those beautiful Is that I am the friend of Sir colm, that I am your friend, that I greatly hope to become and their ~The hear you, madame,” murmur- ed idward. “Hera! Agne continued the princ- ess, giving her voice its sweetest tone, its most velvety and caressing inflec- ticn. “What charming names! Sweet pure as these radiant faces. I sin- cerely congratulate your brother upon his choice, and you, also, Sir Edward. Miss Agnes, I predict to you a happy future. You have youth, grace and beauty. Of all earthly treasures, they are those which a husband must most highly prize. I repeat to you, then, 1 offer you my friendship. Will you ac- cept it?” “P: rdon her timidity, madame,” said Hera. “Such an honor is so unexpect- ed.” “Forget that I am a princess, dear child, and remember that I am a wo- Man—a woman,” she went on, more particularly addressing herself to Ag- nes, though Edward wonderingly fan- cied he detected in her tone a shade of irony, “who rejoices in the happiness of knowing that Sir George’s. heart beats with love for the first time. His oaths of eternal tenderness his lips nev- er before have uttered. To inspire such love, would I not give my fortune, my life?” Doorgal leaned toward Agnes. as the princess sed to speak, saying, with fierce p on: “I know one who loves you!” Agnes made a gesture of fear, and be- came successively crimsen and pale as death. “Yes,” continued the princess. “Sir George indeed should be happy. You must believe, Miss Agnes, that I am your friend. You must never doubt those that love you. We shall see each other again to-night. Give me your arm, Doorgal, and show me the won- ders of Lord Singleton’s garden.” Taking the rajah’s arm, and even sending a last smile toward the sisters, she whispered: “How I hate her—this child!” while Agnes stood, her face bur- ied in her hands. “Agnes, what is the matter?” asked Edward. “Edw ” she answered, in a mourn- ful tone am jealous of this woman!” “Jealous? What utter folly!” “He is right, sister,” agreed Hera. “It is folly.” , yes; but am I to blame? 1 and would weep. I suffocate, and I wish to die!” CHAPTER XV. The music frem the concealed or- chestras had changed its character. It had grown languid, soft and deliciously enticing. x “What fairy harmony?” exclaimed Djella. “It announces, princess, the arrival of the Bayarderes, whom I have brought from the pagoda of Nellore, to give to my guests the entrancing spectacle of your national dances!” “Ah, my lord, that is a gallantry tru- ly princely. You Buropeans are, 1 deed, the kings of the world!” “Princess, you overwhelm me! I can wut feebly follow, at a far distance, the example of great and magnificent hos- pitality you furnish.” “It is you, my lord, who pique us into rivalry. To-night’s fete the people of Benares will return to you to-morrow.” “And where, princess?” “In the streets of the city.” “Ah, yes. The fete of Jagernath.” “The most solemn religious festival of India.” But further conversation was herg in- terrupted by the sound of many vortes heralding the approach of the dancers, who, in ful unison with the music, approached the part of the gardens here were Lord Singleton and Djella, Defore whom they stopped their march and began their slow and wonderful Eastern dances, which beggar descrip- tion. In the midst of the enthusiastic ap- plause which followed it, the voice of the hussar was again heard, and a name announced at which Djella and Doorgal Sahib shivered convulsively. “Sir George Malcolm!” 3 “At last!” cried Sir Edward. “Doubt- less he brings news of amy father.” , The crowd parted to allow him free passage, while, on seeing him, surprise, which was half terror, was depicted on every face. In truth, his appearance was frightful. His hunting clothes in disorder—the same as he had worn the preceding evening—formed strange con- trasts to the costumes of the governor's guests. A livid pallor overspread his face, whose lines expressed the an- guish of the most poignant grief. His eyes sparkled with strange fire be- neath his reddened eyelids. Lord Singleton made a gesture of ex- treme stupefaction. Edward felt a shudder pass over him, while his heart beat madly. A presentiment of great misfortune overwhelmed him. He sprang toward George, crying: “My brother!” At this moment Djella seized Door- gal’s hand, and, pressing it with con- vulsive violence, whispered: “Look at this man, Doorgal—look at him! What has he learned?” “Silence!” answered the rajah. ‘“Con- trol yourself. You betray yourself!” “My brother—my brother!” repeated Sir Edward. “What news have you, and why are you so pale?” Agnes, trembling, had thrown her- self into Hera’s arms; but George, not replying by a word, walked straight to- ward Lord Singleton. “Pardon, my lord governor,” he said, in a dull, changed tone—‘pardon if I come thus to disturb your. fete—if I bring mourning into the midst of pleas- ure.” “Mourning” echoed Lord Singleton, while Edward stammered: “What is it, brother, that you say?” George took in his both Edward's hands. “Call upon your manhood, your cour- age, dear boy,” he answered. ‘You have great need of both.” “George, you terrify me! What terri- ble thing are you about to disclose to us?” | “John Malcolm’ eldest son turned to Lord Singleton. “Governor of Benares,” he said, “I ome to demand, at your hands, justice and revenge!” “My God!” sobbed Hera and Agnes. The princess remained silent, but she threw upon Dorgal Sahib a glance which plainly said: ‘“He knows all!” “Justice! Revenge!” repeated the governor, bewildered. “Yes, my lord.” “Justice for whom?” “For my father!” “Vengeance against whom?” “Against his murderers!” A whisper ran through the crowd. Every voice repeated mournfully: “Sir John Malcolm! Assassinated!” Edward, in half-delirium, seized his brother in both arms, and, forcing him to turn toward him, spoke, in almost indistinct and disjointed utterance! “George, I have misunderstood you— I have not heard aright. It is not of our father you speak? He is living— we shall see him again? God would not permit so monstrous a crime? I dream—surely, my brother, I dream, or my brain has turned!” While Hera sobbed: “Our guardian—our friend—dead?” And Agnes answered: “No, no! It is impossible!” In response, George uttered but a sin- gle word: “Look!” | And, turning toward the direction from which he came, he accompanied this word with so terrible and energet- is a gesture that the crowd parted, as impelled by an impetuous and irresisti- ble current, leaving a large space free, through which Lord Singleton’s guests saw a closed palanquin, near which Stop and Kazil, almost as pale as George himself, stood motionless. George slowly traversed the distance which separated him from it. Every- one was breathless—every glance fixed. Putting his hands upon the curtains, by an abrupt movement, h® parted them. | A human form, rigid in death, could be descried beneath its white covering, stained with blood. As George had parted the curtains, so heAifted the cloth, and the face of the civilian appeared, terrifying and sinis- ter, with its open eyes and contracted mouth. : “Look!” repeated George — “look! ‘This corpse is that of a just man—that is all that remains of Sir John Mal- colm!” A ery of horror escaped every mouth. Hera and Agnes fell upon their knees beside the palanquin, sobs rending their hearts and stifling their voices. Edward, overcome by grief, knelt near them, and, seizing one of the icy hands of the dead, he covered it with kisses and tears, murmuring, over and over: “My poor father—my poor father!” Mute witness of this heart-rending ; Scene, Lord Singleton wiped away the great tears that rolled down his cheeks, At last Edward arose, and, advancing straight to George, said, in a firm voice: “And you know the assassin?” “Tf I knew him, justice would be done.” “Whom do you suspect?” “As yet, no one;” adding, and ad- dressing himself to Lord Singleton: “My lord governor, in the name of Eng- Jand, our common mother, which makes you brother to my father, unite with me in our search for the murder- err ‘ Lord Singleton extended his hand to- ward the corpse. “We shall find the guilty wretches,” he answered. “Before God, who hears me, I swear it, and John Malcolm will be revenged!” “Thanks, my lord!’, simultaneously exclaimed George and Edward. Then, commanding the crowd, by voice and gesture, George added “Kneel, all of you, and pray—pray for: a martyr!” At this command, given by a son face te face with his murdered father, the 4 . crowd, silent and respectful, obeyed. Eyery knee bent—every head was bared. Djella and Doorgal followed the gen- eral example; but the princess mur- mured in the rajah’s listening ear: “The assassin, I have discovered him, Doorgal, and we will render him to CHAPTER XVI. This terrible scene had put an abrupt end to all rejoicing. The guests of | Lord Singleton, sad and silent, took their leave; the lights were extin- i guished; the fete was over ere it fairly. had begun. “Doorgal,” said the princess to the ra- jah, “we must to-night have a long in- terview. Accompany me, I beg you.” “I am at your service, princess,” he replied; and they left together the Pal- ace of the Presidency. Djella’s palace at Benares was, to all Europeans, a miracle of art and beau- | ty. Censtructed of rose granite and ! white marble of the purest Oriental ‘architecture, its balconies commanded jthe bridge of the Ganges, running 'through the center of the city. Im- mense gardens extended behind it. The princess, leading Doorgal into an ex- ! quisitely-appointed boudoir, left him ‘alone, saying: : ! “In a few moments I will be with : you.” ! In fifteen minutes she reappeared, ‘Meanwhile, she had replaced her ball ‘dress by a wrapper of white embroid- jered muslin, and her splendid hair, re- jueves from the weight of the diadem, 'hung in long, perfumed braids over her j shoulders. Two servants followed her, bearing a small table, entirely served, | Which they placed in the middle of the ; room. | “What, princess!” cried Doorgal, | “you are hungry?” “My God—yes!” answered Djella. “We should have supped at the govern- ors, but that George Malcolm must dis- rupt the fete gvith his melodramatic scene. However, the appetite will not be deprived of its rights. I intend to enjoy this cold chicken and. these fruits land to drink this amber-colored Xeres. While supping we can talk, for I have much to say to you. Go, Doorgal, fol- low my example, and be seated oppo- site me.” The rajah took the seat indicated, but on his countenance was depicted entire astonishment. “Do you know, princess,” he asked, “that you are a strange woman— unique, perhaps, in the world?” “Certainly I know, and am proud of it. If I resembled other women, I should be inconsolable. But why this discovery?” “Avound us is being enacted a horri- ble and bloody drama, of which we are —you and I—The mysterious pivot. Yet you are calm and smiling, as if the tempest we had gathered must not burst.” On Djella’s lips played a smile which enhanced, two-fold, her beauty. “What matters the storm, Doorgal, when we can direct ‘the lightning?” “Who gave you this assurance?” “Myself.” “Take care, princess!” “And why?” “Your blind confidence disturbs me.” The young woman threw toward him a curious and ironical glance, as though she would read his hidden thought. “I read your thought, Doorgal!” she eried. “What do you see?” “You are afraid.” “It is true.” “Is it of circumstance, or is it of a man?” “Vhe latter.” “His name?” “George Malcolm.” “Why do you fear him?” Because I see in him all that consti- tutes a formidable foe. He has jntelli- gence and audacity, and to avenge his dead father he will recoil before noth- ing—not even the impossible Am I wrong or right to thus judge him?” “Right, Doorgal, only you forget one thing. It is I who am the opponent of George Malcolm.” “I well knew that you are skillful and powerful. But this Englishman is on his guard. What can you do against him?’ “I can do all.” “Do you know that time presses?” “To-morrow, from George Malcolm, there will be nothing more to fear.” Lica ae echoed Doorgal Sa- hib. “Yes; or, rather, to-day, for it is now 2 o’clock in the morning.” “Have you, then, prepared the plan which is to bring about this ruin?” “Yes,” “In this plan, am I to play a role?” “Doubtless—the principal role ” “May I know it?’ “Certainly. Indeed, to satisfy this most pardonable curiosity, I have brought you here to-night.” “I listen, princess.” “And I begin.” Later, we, too, shall learn this scheme of Djella’s; but it is now suffi- cient for us to know that, at its close, Doorgal, carried away by enthusiasm, exclaimed: “Princess, you are a woman of gen- ius!” I have never doubted it,” Djella an- swered, laughing. Then she added: “So, you have perfectly understood and approve?” “Perfectly and entirely.” “I may, then, rely on you?” “And on yourself.” “You will follow my instructions.” “To the line.” “Then all goes well; and now, more than ever, I answer for success ” The rajah having taken his depart- | ure, though not until the dawn was breaking, the princess signalled for Saugor, who instantly appeared before her. “Well?” she questioned. “I have sought, and I have found,” he answered. %y And, as briefly as he could, he laid before her all the particulars of the previous night—George Malcolm’s ex- cursion, and the strange and terriole chance which had suddenly placed the sor in the presence of his dead father. “Who has revealed all this?’ asked Djella, when he had finished. “The two Hindoos enlisted by Ka- il.” t i “Do they belong to the sacred order?” “Yes, mistress.” “Are they here?” “They are here.” “Tt is well.Admit them ” Saugor opened the door and made a sign. Two natives crossed the thresh- old, prostrated themselves before the princess with every mark of profound respect, mingled with terror. “Children of Bowhanie,” she began, “rise and give me your attention, for I address you in the name of the god- dess.”” The interview lasted more than an hour. At its end she dismissed them, with these words: “Go, and remember!” “All is forearmed,” murmured the princess, when alone. “I have well earned two hours’ sleep. It is already day.” And she entered her sleeping cham- ber. The day dawned beautiful and bright It was to celebrate the grand fete of the god Jagernath, and all Be- nares was filled with life and gayety. Twelve o'clock noon had sounded from the clock of the palace, when the door of the governor’s library opened, and a man, clad in the costume of a Hindoo servant, entered and placed on the desk a bundle of papers. This person we already know. Two days before, his face hidden by a thick veil, he had arrived at the palace of the princess, together with the Fakir Soun- iancy, Holear and Agkbar. We have seen him again during the night of the murder, at the Cemetery of the Ele- phants. It was Djaal, one of the chiefs of highest rank.His presence here in dis- guise, is an enigma to be later solved. Now, placing the papers on Lord Singleton’s desk, he murmured, in dull, guttural tones, with an expression of savage irony: “Seek! seek! We defy you! When it pleases the Hindoo to conceal a trace, no European eye may discover it. Cursed English, seek! You will find nothing! John Malcolm will not be avenged—” At this moment a low, timid rap sounded on the door. Djaal opened it, to find himself face to face with Kazil. he child and man, on seeing each other, could not repress a movement of surprise. “Djaal!” cried Kazil. “Djaal, in this palace and in this dress!” “Yes,” answered the Hindoo, “Our mistress, the Princess Djella, has placed me at the house 6f the govern- or.” “Ah!” murmured Kazil, the nature of whose astonishment appeared to change. “But you, child?’ returned Djaal. “What do you here? What brings you?” “An order from Lord Singleton.” “The goyernor has sent for you? What does he wish?” “I do not know. However—” The boy interrupted himself. “Finish!” sai@ Djaal. “I think,” continued the child, “that hé wished to question me concerning Sir John Malcol’m’s murder.” “Sir John Malcolm’s murder!” ech- oed Djaal. “Why should he question you? What do you know concerning it?” “Nothing more than Sir George him- self. But, on the night of the murder, I was guide to Sir George, and entered the cemetery with him. I was the first, indeed, to discover the corpse, hidden under the long grass.” “Have you repeated this that you have just told me to anyone else?” “No one; for no one has questioned me.” “Truly?” “I swear it! Why de you ask me?” Instead of replying, Djaal seized the left hand of the boy, who involuntarily shuddered at his touch, and, lifting his sleeve, he disclosed a blue mark, a spe- cies of tattooing, perfectly distinct. “Do you know,” he said, in a brusque tone, what this is?” “It is the mark of the goddess,” mur- mured Kazil. “Yes, the mark of the goddess, im- printed on your flesh since infancy. You are a son of Bowkanie. You are a brother of the sacred work; you must obey those who transmit to you the commands of the goddess—obey or die! Do you hear it?” “I know it!” stammered the child, bowing his head, while a livid pallor ovyersperead his face. “Well,” resumed Djaal, “I, chief and master—I command, in the name of the goddess!” Kazil’s knees trembled under him, and, in a voice scarcely to be heard, he asked: “What must I do?” “IXeep silence.” “I do not understand. Concerning what?” “That which you have just told me regarding the night of the murder. The corpse of John Malcolm—It was not you who discovered it.” “But—” “I tell you that it was not you!” re- peated Djaal, with force. “If they in- voke your testimony, whether it be Lord Singleton or George Malcolm— whoever it may be—you have seen nothing; you know nothing. Do you understand?” “I understand.” “You will obey?” “J will obey.” “It is well; and remember that the goddess watches, and whosoever disre- gards her commands will fall, annihi- lated by her powerful hand.” “J will obey,” repeated Kazil, adding to himself: “They have cowardly mur- dered him who saved my life—him whom I loved as a father. My spirit revolts and my heart breaks; but the goddess commands—I must keep si- lence!” “Nothing to fear from this child,” murmured Djaal. “We hold him—he ‘will not speak. It was barely time; someone comes.” It was a valet, who announced the approach of the governor, who entered the study, followed by Gegrge and Ed- ward Malcolm, and the French sur- geon. At a sign from Djaal, Kazil with- drew to where Stop waited without. “You have finished the inquest?’ asked the governor, turning to Dr. Dieudonne, “Yes, my lord.” : “You did not assist, Sir George?” “No, my lord. I had not the courage. Reaction had taken place, and left me weak and unnerved as a child.” Lord Singleton took and pressed the young man’s hand. “Courage,” he murmured, in a sympa- thetic and affected tone—“courage, Sir George!” “I have it, my lord,” he answered, lifting his head. “Thank God, strength and courage have returned, and will not again fail me. Terrible and diffi- cult as is my task, I will perform it.” Lord Singleton again turned to Dieu- donne. Rimes “Doctor,” he asked, “what has been the result of your consultations?” “Our unhappy friend has fallen as i? struck by lightning, for the heart it- self has been pierced.” “Do you believe that a struggle pre- ceded the murder?’ “Nothing indicates it. The body of- fers no trace of violerce. The murder- ous weapon struck full in the chest.” “What was the weapon?” “An Indian dagger. At least, so I suppose.” “And you are-not deceived, doctor,” answered George, extending to Dieu- donne a dagger that he carried con- cealed beneath his clothing. “Here is the weapon that has killed my father.” The doctor took it, and, examining the point with a magnifying glass, ex- claimed: “it is true; and to make more sure, the blade has been poisoned!” Edwaré lifted his arms, to heaven, muttering: “Ah, the cowards!” George did not utter a word, but the nails of his clenched hands tore his flesh. Lord Singleton took the dagger, in his turn, and examined it. ‘There are some Hindoo characters on this blade,” he said, at the end of a minute. ‘These characters are known to me.” Then, after a moment's silence, he added: “Ah, I see! It is the name of the toddess Bowhanie!” “The Goddess Bowhanie!” repeated George. “The goddess of murder and d Lord Singleton. 1, then it is impossible longer to have the shadow of a doubt. These are the Hindoos who have murdered him. Are you not equally sure, my lord goy- erpor, with myself?” “Take care, Sir George! At this mo- ment you go too fast and too far!” “My lord, do you believe that I de- ceive myself?” “I do not say that.” “What, then?” “Your inference is not strictly and absolutely logical. A dagger of Bow- hanie’s stamp has struck your father, but a Hindoo weapon may find itself in a European hand.” Edward Malcolm gave his brother no time to reply. “A European—an Englishman,” he cried—“would have committed this crime? Ah, my lord, this would be menstrous! You do not believe it?” “I believe nothing,” replied Lord Sin- gleton. “I am like yourselves—I doubt and seek.” “You have yourself said, my lord,” resumed George, “that my father was loved and respected by all. Had he en- emies?” “It is almost impossible to answer such a question,” replied Lord Single- ton; “but 1 may affirm that I know of none.” “The body was not robbed,” said George. “His purse and watch were untouched. Therefore, theft was not the motive. Doubtless you know, my lord, that my father consecrated his life to some mysterious researches?” “Yes, I knew this; but I, like the world at large, was ignorant of their purport. More than once I have ques- tjoned him, but, invariably, he has an- swered: ‘Absolute secrecy is for me a guarantee of success.’ You should comprehend that with such a man as my Malcolm, insisterce was imposs)- le.” “Ah, well, my lord, this end, of which you are in ignorance, I know.” “You, Sir George?” “Yes, my lord. For more than a year my father has corresponded with me concerning the certain existence of a certain immense association of fanatic assassins, spreading over the entire surface of India, and scheming in dark- ness the overthrow of the English pow- er. He attributed to this association the isolated crimes which were every day committed against our country- men; and, disdaining the obscure hand which struck, he hoped to discover the formidable head which planned and the the sovereign will which directed. Well, my lord, I haye the profound conviction that my father has perished a martyr to his devotion. They killed him because he had already gone too far. They killed him to prevent his taking one step further.” “Yes, yes, brother!” cried Edward, “you are right. It must be as you say.” Lord Singleton sounded a bell. The dark face of Djaal appeared between two portieres, whose hangings he*hela uplifted in his hand. “Is Kazil there?” asked the governor. “Yes, my lord governor.” “Let him enter.” Kazil approached, Instead of leaving the room, Djaal placed himself in the recess of a win- dow, in full view of the yeung Hindoo, where he might enchain him with his eye as a serpent fascinates a bird, fore- ing it to fall into its half-opened jaws. CHAPTER XVII. Lord Singleton beckoned Kazil to ap- proach, and said to him, in low tones, emphasizing each word: “Kazil, listen to me! Sir John Mal- colm was your benefactor—you loved him. He saved your life, two years ago, at peril of his own. If you guess who his murderers may be—if you sus- pect the frightful motive which prompt- ed their act—gratitude forbids you to preserve a silence which would become complicity. You will speak—you will aid us in revenging Sir John Malcolm?” Before answering, Kazil plainly hesi- tated, and appeared much moved. When he lifted his eyes he met Djaal’s glance fixed upon him, and this added yet more to his emotion. At length he stammered forth: ss “My lord governor, I am not an un- grateful child—I loved Sir John with all my soul. Seeing him the blood-stained earth—he who had saved my life—I wept. Never his image be effaced from my memory! Thinking of him, eo good, so generous, my tears still flow. If by my death I could bring him to life, I would die!” Sobs here choked ‘his voice, but through them his last words could be feebly distinguished: “But I can tell you nothing, since I know nothing.” “Happily I was there,” murmured Djaal, stepping further behind the win- OF. curtain which half-concealed him. “Without my presence he would, per- haps, have spoken, spite of Bowhanie’s commands.” George took in his both Kazil’s hands and pressed them. “My father loved you, my boy,” he said. “I will replace him with you.” “Thanks, master—thanks!” he mur- mured; while to himself he added: “To be silent—oh, it is terrible!” “Sir George,” continued Lord Single- ton, “the darkest shadows scatter at God’s will. In this hour, a night so dark that its blackness is impenetrable, envelops your father’s murder—our be- loved friend; but sooner or later the dawn will break, and heavenly justice, I have firm faith, will become the ally of human justice. Be it in one year, or two, or ten, this crime will not rest un- punished, and John Malcolm will be avenged.” “Be it one year, or two, or ten, did you say, my lord?’ replied our hero. “I shall not wait so long. I swear it! Iwill strike sooner!” “God grant it!” murmured the gov- ernor. “He will grant it, do not doubt it, for He is just. He will deign. to protect the sons who cry revenge for their mur- dered father.” At this moment Djaal reappeared. “My lord governor,” he said, “the Princess Djella solicits an interview with my lord.” “The princess!” repeated Lord Single- ton. “Does she come to bring us the clue? Sir George, Sir Edward, will you step into the next room with the doctor?” “Certainly, my lord,” assented Sir George; and may it be you hope, that the princess brings u: ome light. Come, brother—come, doctor.” Iie went out, accompanied by Ed- ward and Dieudonne, and, as the door closed behind them, Lord Singleton the order to admit the princess. s she entered, she appeared entirely caln. Her two sleepless nights had left upon her countenance no trace of fatigue. gleton advanced to meet her, ing her hand with marked gal- ‘y, he said: “Welcome, princess! Do you bring me news?” s!” echoed Djella, with an ex- pression of surprise. “Relative to what?” “To that which causes throughout the city such profound and mournful preoccupation.” “You speak, I presume, of Sir John Malcolm’s murder. Unhappily, I know nothing; and indeed, one of the objects of my visit was to ask if you were upon the trail of the assassins.” “Alas, no, princess.” “Your police, then, are at fault?” “I am forced to believe it. No clue comes to guide us—knowledge halts at the first step. “Truly,” said the princess, it is terri- ble! My high esteem for Sir John Mal- colm induces me to take in this fright- ful event an interest easy to under- stand. Poor Sir John! His death will cause deep regret!” “Regret is unanimous,” answered Lord Singleton. “Ah, if we might re- venge him!” “I desire it with as much earnestness as yourself. I have some influence in this country. If this influence can be of service to you, command me, my lord.” “Thanks, princess.” “You know, my lord, that in all things and at all times, you may count upon me.” “T have never doubted it. Aid us, princess, to punish this infamous crime, and you will have done a noble deed.” “Ah,” cried Djella, “I would give half of my fortune to assist in the pun- ishment of the guilty wretches; for those who strike thus in the dark are miserable and cowardly indeed!” Djaal entered. “My lord,” he said, “the Rajah Door- gal Sahib-prays your lordship to grant him audience.” “The rajah!” at once exclaimed the princess and Lord Singleton. “Do not keep him waitiie;,” said the governor, quickly, while Djella, rising, made a movement to withdraw. “Princess,” us questioned, “what are you about to oO?” “T leave you, my lord.” “And why so soon?” “The rajah may have some secret communication. I would disturb your interview.” : As she uttered these words, Doorgal appeared. “Remain, princess,” he said—“‘remain, I pray you! My lord governor, I sa- lute you. The Princess Djella can and ought to hear what I come to tell you, for my communication interests in the highests degree all true friends of the East India Company, and foremost among those I place the princess.” In thus speaking, the rajah appeared singularly agitated—devoured as it were by internal fever. There was about him some of the moral uneasi- ness and physical inaction of an actor fighting himself against a part too strong for him. His eyes shone with a phosphorescent flame, a sort of reflec- tion from an interior furnace. His ue was altered; his nostrils quiver- “What is the matter, Doorgal?” cried Djella. “Your attitude terrifies me. Why do you come here? What have you to say before me?” “What are you about to tell us?” questioned Lord Singleton, in turn. “Ts it, then, some terrible revelation?” “Terrible? Yes, my lord.” “What?” “The name of Sir John Malcolm’s murderer!” While Doorgal pronounced these last words, a smile of triumph, instantly concealed, played about Djella’s lips. At the same time, the hangings of the door communicating with the next apartment were lifted, and the two brothers, followed by the phy- pelinyal ee ae sight of jah—t unseen by them—on the threshold. eee * «To he continued.) ar a stretched om