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And I, mem-sahib, fearing they might return to visit their vengeance upon you being the wife of the captain sahib whom they could not find I wrapped a saree about your head and carried you away." Humble pride in the achievement sounded in Hanani's voice. "I knew that here you would be safe," she ended. "All evil-doers fear this place. It is said to be the abode of unquiet spirits."
With a sigh she bent and touched the tiny forehead with her lips. Hanani's hand, long and bony, gently stroked her arm as she did so. "Old Hanani knows, mem-sahib," she whispered under her breath. The tears she had barely checked a moment before sprang to Stella's eyes. She held the dark hand in silence and was subtly comforted thereby.
She looked at Hanani crouched humbly beside her, looked at her again and again, and at last her wonder found vent in speech. "Hanani," she said, "I don't quite understand everything. How did you get me here?" Hanani's veiled head was bent. She turned it towards her slowly, almost reluctantly it seemed to Stella. "I carried you, mem-sahib," she said. "You carried me!"
There was earnest assurance in Hanani's voice such assurance as could not be disregarded. "I have told you the truth. The captain sahib is not dead. It was a false report." "Hanani! Are you sure?" Stella's hand gripped the ayah's shoulder with convulsive, strength. "Then who who was the sahib they shot in the jungle the sahib who died at the bungalow of Ralston sahib? Did Hafiz tell you that?"
"No," Stella said. "No. They had killed him already in the jungle. At least, they had shot him. He died afterwards." She spoke dully; she felt as if her heart had grown old within her, too old to feel poignantly any more. "Go on!" she said, after a moment. "What happened then? Did they kill Bernard sahib and Denvers sahib, too?" "Neither, my mem-sahib." Hanani's reply was prompt and confident.
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