The Adventures of Kathlyn

Durga Ram, called lightly Umballa, went directly to the palace, where

he knew the Council of Three solemnly awaited his arrival. He dashed

up the imposing flight of marble steps, exultant. He had fulfilled his

promise; the golden daughter of Hare Sahib was but a few miles away.

The soldiers, guarding the entrance, presented their arms respectfully;

but instantly after Umballa disappeared the expression on their faces

was not pleasing.

Umballa hurried along through the deep corridor, supported by

exquisitely carved marble columns. Beauty in stone was in evidence

everywhere and magnificent brass lamps hung from the ceiling. There

was a shrine topped by an idol in black marble, incrusted with

sapphires and turquoises. Durga Ram, who shall be called Umballa,

nodded slightly as he passed it. Force of habit, since in his heart

there was only one religion--self.

He stopped at a door guarded by a single soldier, who saluted but spat

as soon as Umballa had passed into the throne room. The throne itself

was vacant. The Council of Three rose at the approach of Umballa.

"She is here," he said haughtily.

The council salaamed.

Umballa stroked his chin as he gazed at the huge candles flickering at

each side of the throne. He sniffed the Tibetan incense, and shrugged.

It was written. "Go," he said, "to Hare Sahib's bungalow and await me.

I shall be there presently. There is plenty of time. And remember our

four heads depend upon the next few hours. The soldiers are on the

verge of mutiny, and only success can pacify them."

He turned without ceremony and left them. With oriental philosophy

they accepted the situation. They had sought to overturn him, and he

held them in the hollow of his hand. During the weeks of his absence

in America his spies had hung about them like bees about honey. They

were the fowlers snared.

Umballa proceeded along the corridor to a flight of stairs leading

beneath the palace floor. Here the soldiers were agreeable enough;

they had reason to be. Umballa gave them new minted rupees for their

work, many rupees. For they knew secrets. Before the door of a

dungeon Umballa paused and listened. There was no sound. He returned

upstairs and sought a chamber near the harem. This he entered, and

stood with folded arms near the door.

"Ah, Colonel Sahib!"

"Umballa?" Colonel Hare, bearded, unkempt, tried to stand erect and

face his enemy. "You black scoundrel!"

"Durga Ram, Sahib. Words, words; the patter of rain on stone roofs.

Our king lives no more, alas!"

"You lie!"

"He is dead. Dying, he left you this throne--you, a white man, knowing

it was a legacy of terror and confusion. You knew. Why did you

return? Ah, pearls and sapphires and emeralds! What? I offer you

this throne upon conditions."