Briefly she recounted her adventures, and when she had done he bowed
his head upon her bare shoulder and wept as only strong men, made weak,
weep.
To Kathlyn it was terrible. "Father, don't, don't! You hurt me! I
can't stand it!"
After a while he said: "What shall we do, Kit; what shall we do?"
"I will marry him, father," she answered quietly. "We can take our
revenge afterward."
"What!"
"If it will save you."
"Child, let me rot here. What! Would you trust him, knowing his false
heart as you do? The moment you married him would be my death warrant.
No, no! If you weaken now I shall curse you, curse you, my Kit! There
has been horror enough. I can die."
"Well, and so can I, father."
Silence. After a cockatoo shrilled; a laugh came faintly through the
window, and later the tinkle of music. Up above the world was going on
the same as usual. Trains were hurrying to and fro; the great ships
were going down the sapphire seas; children were at play, and the world
wide marts were busying with the daily affairs of men.
"Jewels!" she murmured, gazing at the sky beyond the grilled window.
Was there ever a precious stone that lay not in the shadow of blood and
misery? Poor, poor, foolish father! As if jewels were in beauty a
tithe of the misery they begot!
"Ay, Kit, jewels; sapphires and rubies and emeralds, diamonds and
pearls and moonstones. And I wanted them for my pretty cubs! Umballa
knew that I would return for them and laid his plans. But were they
not mine?"
"Yes, if you intended to rule these people; no, if you thought to take
them away. Do you not know that to Winnie and me a hair of your head
is more precious than the Koh-i-noor? We must put our heads together
and plan some way to get out."
She dropped her arms from his shoulders and walked about the cell,
searching every stone. Their only hope lay in the window, and that
appeared impossible since she had no means of filing through her
father's chains and the bars of the window. She returned and sat down
beside her father and rested her aching head on her knees, thinking,
thinking.
Bruce, struggling with the soldiers (and long since their fat flesh had
been stung into such activity!) saw Umballa appear in the corridor.
"Durga Ram," he cried, with a furious effort to free his arms. "Durga
Ram, you damnable scoundrel, it would be wise for you to kill me, here
and now, for if I ever get free. God help you! O, I shan't kill you;
that would be too merciful. But I'll break your bones, one by one, and
never more shall you stand and walk. Do you hear me? Where is Kathlyn
Hare? She is mine!"