"Yes. We both realized at the same moment that we were not alone. You must understand that the place is half in ruins--it's a clever subterfuge of the priests to keep out intruders by pretending there is nothing there of interest. Most people turn back after a perfunctory look round; but in reality if one penetrates through one or two pa.s.sages one comes to the Temple proper, where Heaven knows what rites go on."

"You reached it?"

"Yes. Thinking the place was merely a ruin I went on quite comfortably ... and suddenly we found ourselves in a sort of Holy of Holies ... a queer, pillared place with an enormous idol in a kind of recess--an altar, I suppose." His voice was tense. "It was at that moment we both realized someone was watching us, malignantly, from some unseen vantage-point. I turned to Miss Ryder to suggest, as quietly as possible, that we should retrace our steps, and found her, very pale, staring ahead of her with horror in her face."

"She had seen--something?"

"Yes. Afterwards she told me it was the glitter of the man's eyes ... he was looking through a kind of hole in the embroidered drapery behind the idol ... that had attracted her attention; and she was only too ready to fall in with my suggestion."

"You were--prevented?"

"Yes. As we turned towards the opening we found we were too late. Three tall fellows--priests, I suppose they were--had come up behind us, and as we moved they seized us ... two men held my arms--the third----" His voice broke.

"He--held Miss Ryder?"

"Yes. He wasn't rough with her." The words, which happened to be untrue, sounded painfully inadequate in his own ears. "They gave us no time to explain anything, but took us before the Chief Priest, or someone of the kind, and stated that we had been found desecrating the Temple by our unhallowed presence."

"You explained that you had done it in ignorance?"

"Of course. But"--he smiled rather cynically--"they had evidently heard that before. You know the Americans who got into trouble there had really laid a plot to carry away some memento of their visit, and they thought we were after loot of some kind, too, I suppose."

"They wouldn't listen?"

"Oh, yes, they listened all right while I tried, with Miss Ryder's help, to explain. She knew a few words of their tongue, and somehow a situation of that sort sharpens one's wits to the extent of helping one to understand a strange lingo. The upshot was we were blindfolded"--he saw Cheniston wince at the thought of the indignity to the girl he had loved--"and led away. Later we were placed in a conveyance of some sort, a bullock cart, I imagine, and driven for hours over some of the worst ground I've ever struck."

"Well?" The interest of the story was gripping the other man through all his horror, and his tone had lost its hostility for the moment. "And then?"

"Finally we were released, led into a small hut, our eyes were unbandaged, and we were informed that our fate was being deliberated, and the result would be made known to us at sunset."

"And at sunset----"

"At sunset we were sent for to the presence of a still more important personage, another High Priest, I suppose. We were taken into a kind of presence chamber, across the large courtyard, and found our friends of the morning, kow-towing to this still higher potentate. He didn't waste words on us. Through the miserable creature who had interpreted for us earlier, he made us understand that the penalty for setting foot in their holy place was death--by strangulation as a general rule----"

Cheniston's lips turned white, and his cigarette dropped to the floor; but though Anstice saw his agitation he paid no attention.

"But in consideration of the fact that we were English and one of us was a woman"--Cheniston uttered an involuntary exclamation--"our sentence was that we should be shot in the courtyard at sunrise."

"One moment." Cheniston's voice was harsh, and he moistened his lips before he spoke. "Weren't you armed? Couldn't you have--have made a fight for it?"

For the first time Anstice lost control of himself. The dark blood rushed to his brow and his eyes flashed with anger.

"Good G.o.d, man, do you suppose if I'd been armed we should have submitted tamely? As a matter of fact, the brutes who attacked us in the first place seized my revolver before I had a chance to draw it ... and though I'm pretty tough, when it came to a struggle with those Indian devils they were like steel--iron--anything you choose to compare them with."

"I know--their muscles are marvellous--especially the Hill-men." His tone held a note of apology. "Of course, if you had had half a chance--but"--suddenly his voice changed, grew suspicious--"you had a revolver, in the end?"

"Yes. Miss Ryder's. They did not suspect her of carrying a weapon, you see, and it was a tiny one her uncle had given her, more as a toy than as a serious protection."

"She couldn't get at it to use it?"

"No. We were bound as well as blindfolded, you know." He spoke grimly.

"Luckily Miss Ryder had the presence of mind to say nothing about it till we were alone in the hut, our hands untied. Then she gave it to me, and we found to our dismay that there was only one cartridge left."

"How was that?" He spoke quickly, but there was no suspicion in his tone now.

"Miss Ryder explained that she had been practising shooting with her uncle and had forgotten to reload. But"--he paused--"even had it been fully charged, I'm afraid our fate would have been unchanged."

Cheniston rose suddenly, took a few aimless steps across the floor, and then sank down on the bed again almost in his former position. In front of him Anstice stood motionless, his hands, clenched now, still in his pockets, his eyes the only live feature in the grey pallor of his face.

"Well!" Suddenly he threw back his head with a restless gesture, as though the strain of the interview was beginning to tell on him. "After hearing our sentence we were taken back to our hut, there to await the moment of sunrise--of our death."

"They gave you no food?" The question was almost futile in its triviality; but Anstice answered it quite naturally.

"Oh, yes, we were given food of a sort. Luckily I had a little flask of brandy, and once--at midnight--I persuaded Miss Ryder to take a few drops. She was splendidly brave throughout."

There was a short silence. Both men felt that the crux of the interview was at hand; and each, in his way, was preparing himself for it.

"Well?" It was Cheniston who spoke first. "The night wore on, I suppose, and you saw no hope of escape? But didn't you guess your absence would be remarked upon?"

"Of course. And we hoped against hope that someone would remember the Temple."

"They did--in the end?"

"Yes, and made all possible speed to reach it. But by that time we had been taken away, there was no one to be seen, and of course all traces of us had absolutely disappeared."

"Then how did they find you in the end?"

"The native servant who had talked of the wonders of the Temple to Miss Ryder was aghast when he found what harm his talk had done. It seems she had cured his little boy of some childish illness, and he simply worshipped her in consequence. So he was wild to rescue her, and after dispatching parties of searchers in every likely direction he suddenly recollected hearing of some mysterious High Priest in a tiny village in the hills, which was so securely hidden from observation that very few people knew of its existence."

"Colonel G.o.dfrey said he would never have reached it without the guidance of some native," said Cheniston thoughtfully. "Would that be the man himself?"

"Yes. It seemed his father had known the way and had told him in direst secrecy how to reach the village; and when the officers were ready to start he went with them, and by some stroke of luck hit the right road at once, although the directions were fearfully complicated."

"If only you had known----"

"Do you think I don't say that to myself day after day?" Anstice's brow was pearled with sweat. "If I had had the faintest idea there was any chance of a rescue----"

"I know, I know!" The other man moved restlessly. "Good G.o.d, man, I'm not condemning you"--Anstice flushed hotly--"I'm only saying what a pitiful mistake the whole thing was ... the tragedy might have been averted if only----"

"It's no use talking now." Anstice's tone was icy. "The thing's happened, the mistake is made and can't be unmade. Only, if you think _you_ could have let her fall into the hands of those fanatics--well, I couldn't, that's all."

"She ... she asked you to ... to save her from that?" He hung on the other man's answer as though his own life depended upon it.

"Yes. I shouldn't have ventured to shoot her without her permission, you know!" In a moment he repented of the ghastly pleasantry into which exasperation had led him. "Forgive me, Cheniston--the thing's got on my nerves ... I hardly know what I'm saying...."

Cheniston, who had turned a sickly white beneath his bronze, looked at him fiercely.

"I'm making all allowances for you," he said between his teeth, "but I can't stand much of that sort of thing, you know. Suppose you tell me, without more ado, the nature of the--the bargain between you."