The Adventures of Kathlyn

From the crypt they proceeded to the palace zenana (harem), which

surrounded a court of exceeding beauty. Three ladies of the harem were

sitting in the portico, attended by slaves. All were curiously

interested at the sight of a woman with white skin, tinted like the

lotus. Umballa came to a halt before a latticed door.

"Here your majesty must remain till the day of your coronation."

"How did my father die?"

"He was assassinated on the palace steps by a Mohammedan fanatic. As I

told you, he died in my arms."

"His note signified that he feared imprisonment. How came he on the

palace steps?"

"He was not a prisoner. He came and went as he pleased in the city."

He bowed and left her.

Alone in her chamber, the dullness of her mind diminished and finally

cleared away like a fog in a wind. Her dear, kind, blue-eyed father

was dead, and she was virtually a prisoner, and Winnie was all alone.

A queen! They were mad, or she was in the midst of some hideous

nightmare. Mad, mad, mad! She began to laugh, and it was not a

pleasant sound. A queen, she, Kathlyn Hare! Her father was dead, she

was a queen, and Winnie was all alone. A gale of laughter brought to

the marble lattice many wondering eyes. The white cockatoo shrilled

his displeasure. Those outside the lattice saw this marvelous

white-skinned woman, with hair like the gold threads in Chinese

brocades, suddenly throw herself upon a pile of cushions, and they saw

her shoulders rock and heave, but heard no sound of wailing.

After a while she fell asleep, a kind of dreamless stupor. When she

awoke it was twilight in the court. The doves were cooing and

fluttering in the cornices and the cockatoo was preening his lemon

colored topknot. At first Kathlyn had not the least idea where she

was, but the light beyond the lattice, the flitting shadows, and the

tinkle of a stringed instrument assured her that she was awake,

terribly awake.

She sat perfectly still, slowly gathering her strength, mental and

physical. She was not her father's daughter for nothing. She was to

fight in some strange warfare, instinctively she felt this; but from

what direction, in what shape, only God knew. Yet she must prepare for

it; that was the vital thing; she must marshal her forces, feminine and

only defensive, and watch.

Rao! Her hands clutched the pillows. In five days' time he would be

off to seek John Bruce; and there would be white men there, and they

would come to her though a thousand legions of these brown men stood

between. She would play for time; she must pretend docility and meet

quiet guile with guile. She could get no word to her faithful

khidmutgar; none here, even if open to bribery, could be made to

understand. Only Umballa and the council spoke English or understood

it. She had ten days' grace; within that time she hoped to find some

loophole.