The Adventures of Kathlyn

High and low they hunted Umballa, but without success. He was hidden

well. They were, however, assured that he lingered in the city and was

sinisterly alive.

Day after day the king grew stronger mentally and physically. Many of

the reforms suggested by Ramabai were put into force. Quiet at length

really settled down upon the city. They began to believe that Umballa

had fled the city, and vigilance correspondingly relaxed.

The king had a private chamber, the window of which overlooked the

garden of brides. There, with his sherbets and water pipe he resumed

his old habit of inditing verse in pure Persian, for he was a scholar.

He never entered the zenana or harem; but occasionally he sent for some

of the women to play and dance before him. And the woman who loved

Umballa was among these. One day she asked to take a journey into the

bazaars to visit her sister. Ordinarily such a request would have been

denied. But the king no longer cared what the women did, and the chief

eunuch slept afternoons and nights, being only partly alive in the

mornings.

An hour later a palanquin was lowered directly beneath the king's

window. To his eye it looked exactly like the one which had departed.

He went on writing, absorbed. Had he looked closely, had he been the

least suspicious . . . !

This palanquin was the gift of Durga Ram, so-called Umballa. It had

been built especially for this long waited for occasion. It was

nothing more nor less than a cunning cage in which a tiger was huddled,

in a vile temper. The palanquin bearers, friends of the dancing girl,

had overpowered the royal bearers and donned their costumes. At this

moment one of the bearers (Umballa himself, trusting no one!) crawled

stealthily under the palanquin and touched the spring which liberated

the tiger and opened the blind. The furious beast sprang to the

window. The king was too astonished to move, to appreciate his danger.

From yon harmless palanquin this striped fury!

The tiger in his leap struck the lacquered desk, broke it and scattered

the papers about the floor.

Ramabai and his officers were just entering the corridor which led to

the chamber when the tragedy occurred. They heard the noise, the

king's cries. When they reached the door silence greeted them.

The room was wrecked. There was evidence of a short but terrific

struggle. The king lay dead upon the floor, the side of his head

crushed in. His turban and garments were in tatters. But he had died

like a king; for in the corner by the window lay the striped one, a

jeweled dagger in his throat.

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.