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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Look!" from Kathlyn; "there is one of those wonderful trees they call the flame of the jungle." She called their attention to the tree merely to cause a diversion. She wanted to keep her father's thoughts away from Allaha. So they journeyed on into the sunset, into twilight, into the bright starry night. Back in the city the panic was already being forgot as a thing of the past.
Money and revenge; these would have kept him to the chase had he been dying. As for Bala Khan, he was at once glad and sorry to see his friends. Nothing would have pleased him more than to fall upon Allaha like the thunderbolt he was. But he made Ramabai promise that if ever he had need of him to send.
Ramabai was first to discover the deserted palanquin, and proceeded to investigate. It did not take him more than a minute to understand what had happened. It was not an accident; it was cold-blooded murder, and back of it stood the infernal ingenuity of one man. Thus fate took Allaha by the hair again and shook her out of the pastoral quiet. What would happen now? This!
Bruce struck his hands together. "The very thing." "I refuse to be separated from father," declared Kathlyn. "If he is determined to pursue Umballa back to Allaha, I must accompany him." "And I!" added Winnie. "Nothing more to be said," and Bruce signed to the boatmen to start. "If only this breeze had not come up! We could have caught him before he made shore."
"I'll cable from Singapore, from Ceylon, and write a long letter from Allaha. Come on. We must be off. Ahmed is waiting." Some hours later the two girls saw the Pacific Mail steamer move with cold and insolent majesty out toward the Golden Gate. Kathlyn proved rather uncommunicative on the way home. December thirty-first kept running through her mind. It held a portent of evil.
Only in the direst need, though, did he intend to execute this plan. He wanted his friends out of Allaha without the shedding of any blood. "Well," said Ahmed, angrily casting aside his disguise; "well, Ramabai, this is the crisis. Will you strike?" Lal Singh's wrinkled face lighted up with eagerness. "We are ready, Ramabai," he said. "We?"
Oh, the chief city of Allaha was in the matter of choice and unexpected amusements unrivaled in all Asia. Yes, Umballa was not unlike Nero to keep the populace amused so they would temporarily forget their burdens. But why the sudden appearance of soldiers, who stood guard at every exit, compelling the inmates of the bazaars not to leave their houses? Ai, ai!
And then her own journey to Allaha; the nightmarish durbar, during which she had been crowned; the escape from the ordeals with John Bruce; the terrors of the temple of the sun; the flight from there . . . John Bruce! She could still see the fire in his eyes; she could still feel the touch of his gentle yet tireless hand. Would she ever see him again?
All of which signified to Ahmed that the British Raj had too many affairs just then to give proper attention to the muddle in Allaha. "But there is this man Ramabai. He runs deep." "So!" "He has been conspiring for months." "Then why does he not strike?" "He is wary. He is wary; a good sign." Lal Singh reached for his pipe and set the water bubbling.
Here they remained huddled together till the storm died away. "It has blown itself out," commented the chief. Then he spoke to Ramabai. "Who is this man?" with a nod toward the colonel. "He is an American." "He came for Allaha?" "Yes," said Ramabai unsuspiciously. "Ha! Then that great prince did not lie." "What prince?" cried Ramabai, now alarmed. "The Prince Durga Ram.
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