Two troopers stepped forward and took possession of the rifles which were

slung on each side of the howdah. Bruce accepted the situation

philosophically; argument or protest was futile. Next they took away his

cartridge belt. He trembled for a moment with apprehension, but the

troopers did not search him further; and he thanked God for the wisdom

which had made him strap his revolvers under his armpits.

"What now?" he demanded.

"The Sahib will be given his guns and ammunition the hour he starts back

to camp."

"And in the meantime?"

"The Sahib is free to come and go about the city so long as he does not

approach the palace. If he is found in the vicinity of the zenana he

will be arrested and imprisoned."

"This is all very high-handed."

"Sahib, there is no British Raj here. The orders of the regent and the

council are final. Submit."

"Very well."

"Ramabai!"

Ramabai stepped forward. By a kind of clairvoyance he saw what was

coming.

"Ramabai, the orders are that you shall retire to your house and remain

there till further orders."

"I am the queen's body-guard."

"Ai! Well said! But I do not take my orders from the queen--yet. Obey.

The Sahib may accompany you if he wishes; there are no orders against

that. The Sahib's elephant will be lodged in the royal stables; the

mahout will see that he is fed and watered."

"We have been betrayed," said Ramabai. "I know not how."

"You were followed. A moment," said Bruce, turning to the officer. "I

have a servant by the name of Rao. I believe he acted as bearer to the

young lady at the palace. What has become of him?"

The officer smiled and shook his head.

"Rao is a prisoner, then," thought the young man. "That black scoundrel

Umballa is at least thorough." Aloud he said: "We shall go at once to

your house, Ramabai."

And all through the night they planned and planned, but not knowing where

the first ordeal was to take place, nor the hour, they found themselves

going round in a circle, getting nowhere. To a man of action like Bruce

it was maddening. He walked out of the house into the garden and back

again at least a dozen times, always to find Ramabai with his head held

despairingly in his hands. Another time Bruce opened the door to the

street; two troopers squatted on each side of the threshold. Umballa was

in earnest. The rear gate was also guarded. How to get Ramabai out,

that was the problem.

He slept a little before dawn, and was aroused by voices below. He

listened.

"I am Jawahir Lal, the water carrier. Each day at dawn I water the

garden of Ramabai to pay a debt."




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