Banked Fires

  CHAPTER XIII

  VANISHED

  Honor Bright paid several visits to the Mission after Elsie Meek'sdeath, hoping to be of use in cheering the bereaved mother. After thefuneral most of the ladies had called to sympathise, Joyce among them,tearful and tender; but having nothing in common with Methodists whoheld aloof from Station society, her visit of condolence ended theintercourse, so that, but for Honor, Mrs. Meek would have been muchalone. The girl would cycle down for an hour or so and chat with, orread to the grief-stricken woman while she worked garments for theconverted heathen, thus affording her the priceless boon of sympatheticcompanionship.

  During these visits it became apparent to her how much the Padre hadchanged. He was hardly the same man. All his dictatorial ways were gone,his self-sufficiency vanished; he was, instead, bowed down withdepression, he looked older than his years, and spoke with a new andstrange humility.

  Very shyly, as though unaccustomed to the role, he was becoming theattentive husband with an anxious eye for his wife's comfort, andseeking to show her by unobtrusive services that he understood andshared her grief and was suffering the pangs of remorse. It was not easyfor Mr. Meek to confess that he now realised he had been a hard husbandand father, but his manner was tantamount to such a confession, and Mrs.Meek was deeply touched. The passionate love and devotion of nineteenyears ago had long settled into a natural affection for the father ofher child, and now when she was stricken to the earth with sorrow, thevoid in her heart craved to be filled, and she could feel he wasstriving to fill it.

  "You don't know how pathetic it seems to me," she confided in Honor,"his self-conviction and efforts to atone. He must have been fond of ourchild, deep down, though unable to show it, not being of a demonstrativenature. I think he feels he was narrow and bigoted not to have allowedher a few innocent pleasures such as girls enjoy among young people in aStation,--and it is too late now!"

  "There is nothing I can imagine so painful as unavailing remorse," saidHonor.

  "It makes me sorry for him and though I have found it hard to forgivehim, I have uttered no word of reproach. He is so altered. Although agood man and truly religious, he was yet growing unconsciously selfishand domineering--all that has now been swept away, and he is ready forany self-sacrifice--even to allowing me to visit my family in Scotland."

  "Will you go?"

  Mrs. Meek's work dropped in her lap while she gave herself up tothought. "No," she said at length. "I have lost touch with my people.Though they love me dearly, and I them, I don't feel as if I could leavemy husband alone now that he is so broken and sad. We share the samebereavement, and need each other now more than ever before. Besides, hehardly realises how dependent he is upon me. I have done so much for himall these years that he will be utterly stranded without me. It would becruel."

  Honor smiled at her affectionately, thinking it was very sweet--thisspirit of love and forgiveness springing to life after years of habitualsubmission. A truly feminine quality, upon which the masculine naturehas never failed to draw, and which would continue as long as womenremained womanly for the salvation of men.

  While at Sombari, Honor heard news of Captain Dalton's doings in theDistrict. His fame as a surgeon had spread far and wide with variousresults on the ignorant and enlightened. In the case of the former, heinspired more fear than respect, and Mr. Meek could tell of mischievousrumours afloat which he had done his best to dispel so far as hisinfluence went. One of the tales in circulation was that Captain Daltonwas an agent of the Government sent to cripple the youths of theDistrict and otherwise render them helpless in the event of arevolution.

  "And when is such an event likely to happen?" the Padre had asked.

  Who can tell?--Weren't there mutterings and discontent in bigtowns?--All who travelled and went to the cities came back with news ofgreat things to come if all that the people demanded was not granted bythe _Sarcar_.

  "What are the people demanding?" Mr. Meek persisted in knowing.

  That was best known to the highly educated. What did the pooragriculturist know of what was good for the country? He was like sheepled to the pasture by those in authority. But when the _Sarcar_ sentamong the sheep a butcher with no stomach for the suffering of thehelpless ones, it was time to protest and to see to it that he wasrecalled or driven away. Some were for even more lawless methods ofridding the countryside of this monster who disembowelled the sick andsuffering, severed limbs, and robbed people of their rights.

  Mr. Meek's inquiries elicited that the doctor had performed certainsurgical operations in some cases of accidental injury, which theneglect of sanitary precautions had rendered necessary. An operation forappendicitis had resulted in death through bad nursing and failure tocarry out instructions. The women of a zemindar's household had fed hisson on solids too soon after the removal of his appendix, which act ofignorance and disobedience had produced inflammation, agony, and death.The doctor was regarded as his murderer, and evil looks followed himwhenever he passed that way.

  "What butchery!" one had afterwards exclaimed at a council of fivecalled to discuss the enormity of the doctor's conduct and his growingrecord of outrages upon humanity. "To extract a portion of theintestines was madness and murder, for who can exist without intestinesas God made them?--and his effrontery to put the blame upon the womenwho in the tenderness of their hearts had fed the youth on _dhal_ andrice for the restoration of his strength--_ai Khodar_! What harm wasthere ever in plain _dhal_ and rice? It was but an excuse, and now thereis Gunesh Prosad without a son to inherit his estate, and all because ofthis man who is sent among us to cut up human bodies while they are yetalive!"

  "It is a great danger to us. Someone must teach this _Sarcari_ butcherof human flesh a lesson, or where might it not end?" another hadremarked in complete sympathy.

  "But," put in a third cautiously, fearful of making himself unpopular byrepeating the tale with which he was fit to burst, "didst hear of thatlegend concerning the coolie of Panipara _busti_ who went forth as abeater for the hunt, the time the Collector Sahib and others took longspears and killed wild boars? He was gored, and lay on the grassdisembowelled, and as one dead. Quickly on hearing of the accident camethe doctor Sahib in his _hawa-ghari_, himself at the wheel, and leapingout he knelt on the grass, and in a twinkling with strange gloves, andwater in a _gumla_[15], he washed the coolie's intestines and restoredthem where they belonged, after which with a needle, even as a _darzi_sews garments, he stitched up the wound! Those watching turned sick ofstomach, but not so the doctor Sahib. Even the Collector Sahib turnedhis back and called for a glass of spirits. _Ai--Ma!_--how he did itwas a miracle, but the man is at the hospital in the Station,recovering, and these are true words; on the head of my eldest born Iswear I have repeated it just as it was told to me."

  [Footnote 15: Earthen receptacle.]

  "It is a fable; believe it not. More likely he is dead and his bodyalready cremated."

  "Not so. I was told I could see him, if I willed, with mine own eyes.Many have journeyed to the Station so that they might with their owneyes behold him. The doctor Sahib may be unfeeling, even bloodthirsty,but he is devil-possessed with cunning to work magic."

  "Even so, he is a danger and should be removed. Who knows what excuse hemight take to use the knife on thee and me and the little ones of ourhouseholds? _Tobah!_ he is a wolf, not a man. And this one the _Sarcar_has sent among us to mutilate, kill, and rob us of our comforts andrights. Soon, he will take away the _jhil_ from Panipara _busti_ so thatthe people will be put to the labour of dragging water out of deepwells, and for the washing of their garments, they will have to walkmany _kos_ to the river!"

  Mr. Meek had learned a great deal more from his converts of the sayingsof the villagers and their feeling against Captain Dalton, all of whichMrs. Meek recounted to Honor in order that she might put the doctor onhis guard. The latter, however, gave her no opportunity to speak to him,so she left it to Joyce to tell him of his growing unpopularity.

  This Joyce di
d on one of their outings in the Rolls-Royce and onlysucceeded in bringing a smile of amusement to the doctor's lips. He hadno apprehensions whatever for his safety and the subject, therefore, wasspeedily forgotten. Joyce learned how to drive, and one afternoon inDecember had the supreme satisfaction of motoring out to camp and backagain in the doctor's car. Her pleasure in his surprise was so childlikeand exuberant that Meredith had not the heart to show his disapproval ofthe means by which she had attained this end, and smothered his ownfeelings that they should not damp her spirits.

  "It was very charming indeed of him to spare so much of his time toyou," he said with reference to the doctor's tutelage. "But why shouldhe take all that trouble, do you think?"

  "Because he likes me, of course," she replied ingenuously. "People don'tusually do things for those for whom they care nothing," she saidperching on his knee and lighting his cigarette for him. Her engagingimpulses of affection were most disarming to Meredith's suspicions.

  "But--suppose I object to his liking you to such a remarkable extent?"he said with admirable self-control.

  "But why should you? Aren't you glad?"

  "Devil a bit! I am wondering whether or not I should consider it animpertinence, the way he places his leisure at your disposal."

  "But you yourself say I am the Bara Memsahib of the Station. Isn't itexpected of the men to show me plenty of respect and heaps of attention?You wouldn't like to see me left out in the cold?"

  "So long as they remember the 'respect'----"

  "Ah, now you're talking!" she said severely. "Have I ever done anythingto make you doubt my right to the respect of everyone here?"

  Meredith kissed away the frown, considerably lighter of heart than hehad been for some time. No man looking into the sweet pure eyes couldfail to respect her! A fellow would indeed be a rascal if he tried tolead such a perfect lamb astray!

  So the drives continued even after the lessons were no longer necessary,Joyce often at the wheel with Captain Dalton beside her keeping strictwatch over their safety and that of the car which he particularlyvalued, while listening idly to her prattle. The curve of her cheek andsweep of her eyelashes delighted his artistic love of beauty, so thatthough he had plumbed the shallow depths of her mind at the start, hewas still entertained by such superficialities as artlessness andloveliness.

  "When are you going to show me the ruins?" she asked once, when in fullview of the tall minarets and crumbling dome of the ancient palace. "Noone seems to have sufficient interest in them to show them to me."

  "There is nothing much to see beyond jungle and brick-work," he said,bored at the bare idea of plodding over the ground he had alreadyvisited, which was interesting only to globe-trotters and lovers ofantiquities.

  "I am crazy to see some of the old enamel still to be found on thebricks if you look for it. They say it is a lost art. Are there anysnakes and leopards?"

  "Possibly snakes, but no leopards. They were gotten rid of long ago, Iam told."

  Joyce shuddered. "The thought of snakes gives me the creeps. Isn't itpossible to see the place and yet avoid snakes?" she asked longingly.She looked so pretty that he relented.

  "If we are careful the snakes won't trouble us. I'll take you there someday when I have a long afternoon to spare."

  At this Joyce was delighted and gave him her sweetest smiles. "If itwere not for you, I don't know how I should exist in Muktiarbad!" shecooed.

  "Your husband would not like to hear you say that!" he remarked studyingher curiously.

  "He has to be away so much that I might have died of _ennui_ if youhadn't taken pity on me!" she pouted.

  Dalton was not ready with pretty speeches; it involved too much effortto make up insincerities, but he acknowledged that the drives had givenhim a great deal of pleasure. It was so difficult to rouse him toenthusiasm, and he was so complacently cynical, that Joyce took adelight in probing his silences and getting at his thoughts.

  "Don't you ever really enjoy yourself?" she roguishly asked, her head onone side and arch mischief in her eyes.

  "I've just said so, haven't I?"

  "But you don't mean it. I wish I could understand you and all there isbehind that grudging smile--what you think of people--me, for instance."

  "I think if I were an artist I should like to paint a picture ofyou--you are so amazingly good to look at," he returned daringly.

  Joyce coloured. She had asked for frankness and could not quarrel withhim for having answered her bluntly. On the whole she was ratherpleased, than otherwise, that he should admire her, for where was theuse of being pretty if one's friends did not show that they appreciatedthe fact. So she beamed on him wholly unconscious of flirting andrallied him still further on his reserve.

  "I don't want to be your model, but your friend. You treat me too muchas a child and never give me any confidence. Today, after all thesemonths, what do I know of you?"

  "You know at least that I am very much at your service. Isn't that so?"

  "You are very kind--and all that, but friends talk openly to each other.I know nothing of you, and I _do_ know everything you could say would beso interesting," she sighed. "For instance, why are you never reallyhappy?"

  "I have forgotten the way," he said coolly. "Perhaps I have learned toomuch of life and have lost interest in it. You don't laugh when youcan't see the joke, do you?"

  "No."

  "Nor do I. I see no joke in life worth enjoying, so I have forgottenwhat pleasure is."

  "Can't you tell me all about it?" She pleaded.

  "It's an ugly story and not for your ears. But it played the devil withme for good and all," said he grimly.

  "I am so sorry," she cried sincerely shocked and grieved. "I thought youmust have had a bad time to look and act as you do. Poor you!" and onesmall hand rested for a moment on his. It was immediately captured andheld close.

  "Why should you care?" he asked, his expression curiously hardening.

  "Because I like you so much."

  "Only _like_?" he asked with a short, unpleasant laugh.

  The necessity to avoid a goat tethered by the roadside prevented herfrom replying; Joyce recovered her hand for the steering-wheel and theydiscussed the narrow escape of the goat. To Joyce it was veryflattering, this unbending to her alone of all in the Station, and thegrowth and development of their friendship. Some day she would learnwhat had "played the devil" with him for good and all. On the whole hewas really quite a dear.

  Meredith chafed during his week-ends at the Bara Koti when it becameapparent how much his wife depended on the doctor for companionship; andnow that Honor was supposed to have taken a dislike to the latter and toavoid encounters with him on their doorstep, there was little help forit. The only advantage to himself to be derived from the entertainmentJoyce found in the doctor's society, was her healthier condition of mindand no further insistence on a passage home for herself and the child inthe spring. He had a firm faith in her virtue and goodness, and appliedhimself to his winter programme with feverish haste that he might be atliberty to return to her the sooner and personally take over the care ofher before her innocent partiality for the Civil Surgeon became commontalk. That it was innocent he would have staked his life.

  Honor Bright was less sanguine, though intensely loyal. The increasingintimacy between Joyce and the doctor weighed heavily on her; and itmade her rage inwardly to hear her friend discussed openly at the Clubby a clique that usually looked on at the tennis. While serving hersmart over-hand strokes, scraps of conversation would float to her,demoralising her play and rousing in her a fierce inclination to speakher mind.

  "Where is Mrs. Meredith this evening?" a voice was heard to ask on oneoccasion.

  "Joy-riding as usual with Captain Dalton," from Mrs. Fox venomously. "Itwill be interesting to watch the result when Mr. Meredith awakes towhat's going on."

  "What's going on?"

  "The doctor is a 'dark horse.' You don't suppose he would waste so muchof his valuable time if he did not hope to get s
ome entertainment out ofMrs. Meredith? She is such a coquette." This from Mrs. Fox, maliciously.

  "She's a simple little thing," said the first speaker charitably. "Ishouldn't imagine there was any harm in her."

  "'Still waters run deep,'" quoted Mrs. Fox.

  "There is another instructive proverb I could quote," cried Honorstriking savagely at a ball.

  "And what is that?" from Mrs. Fox.

  "About 'glass houses and stones.'"

  "If that is meant for me, thanks, awfully! But so many panes havealready been broken, that I am most indifferent to stones," Mrs. Foxreturned languidly as she smiled on the company, who laughed inembarrassment.

  "So it would appear," murmured Mrs. Ironsides to a friend.

  "Hateful creature!" Honor snapped in Tommy's ear as he handed her aball.

  Jack, playing on the other side with Mr. Ironsides for his partner, haddeteriorated so much of late that Tommy and Honor, who had both agenuine regard for him, were much exercised in mind.

  He had lost his frank look and easy good-humour; was rarely to be seenat the Club without Mrs. Fox, whom he usually drove down in a side carattached to his motor cycle, a recent purchase,--and was no longer thesame man. A constraint had arisen between him and his chum who pouredout his fears to Honor in the hope of receiving advice and comfort, buthe had succeeded only in alarming her.

  "Can't anything be done to save him, Tommy?"

  "I can't think of anything, unless Meredith gets him transferred atonce."

  "But who's to suggest that?"

  "His wife, I should think; otherwise some day there might be an unholyrow. Fox is no fool. I dare say he is biding his time. He was fond ofBobby Smart and got him out of this while there was time, but he mayprefer to sacrifice Jack."

  "How terrible!" Honor was sincerely afraid for Jack. He was too young tobe mixed up in such a bad business, and Mrs. Fox was clever enough toplay him like a fish till he was landed.

  Honor walked home at dusk escorted as far as her door by Tommy. It washer intention to call on Joyce after dinner with a propositionconcerning the transfer of Jack from Muktiarbad. It seemed the onlything left to do. Incidentally, she would repeat her warnings to herfriend concerning herself, for which she expected no thanks. Still, ithad galled her badly listening to the coarse remarks of Station peopleat the Club. She would speak, however disagreeable the task.

  At nine o'clock when she reached the Bara Koti she discovered that Joycewas not in. Usually, she returned from her drive at dusk, but as she hadnot done so up to that late hour, the Collector's servants had come tothe conclusion that she was dining at a neighbour's in thehappy-go-lucky way that sahibs took "pot-luck" at one another's houseswithout reference to their domestics.

  It was odd in Mrs. Meredith's case, for never before had she failed toreturn to her baby that she might tuck him into his little cot herselfand see that all was right. The ayah was not a little perturbed, but didnot voice her feelings until speaking to Honor, fearing that they werefoolish and unfounded. What did the Miss-sahib think?

  Honor did not know what to say. The more she thought of it the lesslikely did it seem that Joyce would dine out without coming home tochange into dinner things and kiss her precious infant good-night. Shedecided to return home at once and ask what her parents thought aboutit.

  This she did without loss of time, and Mr. and Mrs. Bright took a graveview of circumstance.

  "The car has either broken down somewhere, or they have met with anaccident," said Mr. Bright.

  Mrs. Bright maintained a stiff reserve.

  The thought of an accident caused Honor's knees to give way beneath herand she collapsed into a chair. "How shall we know? Supposing they don'treturn--?" The bare idea was intolerable.

  "I have never liked these constant motorings in her husband's absence.Mrs. Meredith is very foolish to court gossip in the way she is doing.Presently there will be a scandal," said Mrs. Bright shortly.

  "Joyce is not a flirt, Mother."

  "She goes far enough to earn the reputation of one, however innocent shemay be."

  Honor knew it was the truth and was silent with an indefinable dread.Was Joyce altogether safe with Captain Dalton?--Should he fall in loveand grow intensely attracted by her beauty and childlike charm, was hethe sort to consider morality and the law? Was he strictly an honourableman? None knew him; none trusted him; not even Ray Meredith who wasafraid to betray his jealousy and incur his wife's resentment; or whyhad he said: "Take care of my wife--she is such a kid?"

  "What had best be done?" she asked anxiously.

  "We had better beat up the Station and see what has happened," said Mr.Bright, rising to put his suggestion into effect. "She might be stupidenough to be dining with the doctor at his bungalow."

  "Oh, never!" said Honor indignantly. "She is not so foolish as allthat!" A hot flush surged over her face at the idea. Joyce dining withthe doctor at his bungalow, _alone_! It was too preposterous, yet--wasit? She was "such a kid," and might be foolish enough to dare any follyso long as she felt sure of herself and the purity of her ownintentions.

  But the pain at Honor's heart was out of all proportion to her concernat Joyce Meredith's indiscretion.

  She tortured herself imagining the possible scene in Dalton'sdining-room--Joyce at dinner, _tete-a-tete_ with Captain Dalton!--onfamiliar terms with the man who rarely condescended to be agreeable toothers! It was a picture inconceivably hurtful.

  "You had better lose no time, Dad. If you find her--anywhere--tell herthat her servants are alarmed--the ayah particularly. I shall see her inthe morning," she said, resolutely shutting out the vision conjured upby imagination.

  If Joyce were not dining somewhere, there must have been an accident, inwhich case they would have to send out search parties.

  She watched her father leave in the dogcart and wondered what the upshotwould be, her mind restless with forebodings.

  It was fully an hour later that Mr. Bright returned home to report thatCaptain Dalton and Mrs. Meredith were nowhere to be found. Dalton'sservants were waiting to serve him with dinner, and were growing anxiousas his habits were usually automatic and punctual. He so far consideredthem that they were always informed of his plans. If he intended to dineout they were given liberty to spend the evening with their friends inthe bazaar. As it was clear that something unusual had happened, Mr.Bright had called round on Tommy and a search was already in progress.Jack had taken the Sombari road on his motor cycle and Tommy had takenthe main road in an opposite direction. It was more than possible thatthe car had broken down somewhere, in which case the stranded ones wouldprobably find a bullock-cart to bring them ingloriously home.

  Honor hung about on the verandah for news till midnight, and was almostspeechless with alarm when both boys appeared, one after the other toreport the failure of their quest. The car was nowhere to be seen.

  To add to the difficulty, clouds which had gathered in the evening haddischarged smart showers of rain at intervals, as is familiar to Bengalabout Christmas time, and not a trace of wheel-marks could be discoveredon the road.

  By morning the excitement had spread all over the Station. Inquiriespoured in on the Brights. The subject of Mrs. Meredith's disappearancewith the doctor was discussed at every _chota hazri_ table with andwithout sympathy, and even in the bazaar it was passed along from one toanother. The Collector's memsahib had gone off with the doctor, leavingher little child to the tender mercies of an ayah! Alack! even to thehomes of the mighty came shame and dishonour through a woman! And allthrough the European custom of giving women so much liberty! On thewhole, the "black man" knew best how to protect his honour and his home!

  Meanwhile, a mounted messenger had gone at great speed to inform theCollector, who arrived by midday looking dazed and ill from the shock.It was pitiful to see how helpless he had become in the face of such anappalling tragedy as the complete disappearance of his wife. Telegramsto various stations on the line had brought no information; mountedpolicemen had retur
ned without having discovered a clue. The car hadvanished with its occupants, though all who knew Joyce intimately, knewthat she would cheerfully have given her life rather than have abandonedher child.

  "One can scarcely believe that she has eloped," Mrs. Bright said toHonor. "She is so wrapped up in the child."

  "Someone would have seen the car," said her husband. "It is anunaccountable thing."

  Joyce eloped!--it was unthinkable.

  Honor, who from anxiety, had not slept all night, mounted her bicycleand rode out into the fresh and brilliant sunlight on a forlorn hope. Anidea had come to her as an inspiration which, though unlikely, was notan impossibility. In the search for the missing ones, every road in theDistrict was being scoured without success. Since the rain hadobliterated all tracks there had been nothing to guide any one in thequest, and nothing had been gleaned from villagers. No one had seen thefamiliar two-seater after it had passed the boundaries of the Mission,which was a circumstance as mysterious as it was unaccountable, for itmust have gone somewhere.

  Why not off the road? Not a soul had conceived it likely that CaptainDalton would have risked his fine machine over the bumpy side-tracksthat formed short-cuts in various directions, notably one to the ruinswhich Joyce had often expressed a wish to see. They were not difficultof access by motor-car, although the road to them was almost covered byweeds and undergrowth. Supposing that the doctor had yielded topersuasion and taken Joyce to see the old Mogul Palace, and supposingthat they had subsequently met with an accident, their plight might betruly pitiable. Very few natives found it necessary to travel by thejungle path so long disused, for the Government having constructedmetalled highways in all directions, travellers had ceased to traveluncomfortably even if the old path was a short-cut between villages.Occasionally woodmen in search of timber prowled around the ancient pileand jackals gathered in packs to howl their grievances to the moon;otherwise, a stray tourist on a visit to the Station or a winter picnicparty were the only visitors to the gaping halls and crumbling arches.

  Just where the unused and overgrown track left the Sombari Road, Honorstepped off her bicycle and searched the ground again for a clue withoutsuccess. None was to be found in the slush and puddles of the unevenway.

  Nothing daunted, she led her bicycle over the ruts towards the jungle inwhich the palace lay buried, its dome and minarets visible through thetangled tree-tops. It was not easy going on foot, much less could ithave been for a motor-car; moreover, Honor was not at all sure she likedventuring on her visit of exploration alone, but all who were capable ofcontinuing the search were already occupied in its prosecution indifferent parts of the District, and there was no one she could haveasked to keep her company.

  It was when Honor came to shadowed glades where the undergrowth almosthid the track and obstructed her progress, that she found the firstclue--snapped twigs and branches bent backward. These suggested thepassage of a cumbrous body on wheels, for sodden leaves were pressedinto the wet earth and creepers which had barred the way had been tornand flung on the path.

  If it had been Captain Dalton's car, why had it not returned? Honor'sheart grew sick with fear.

  She pressed on. Presently, she came upon the car itself, beneathoverhanging boughs and a dense entanglement of bamboos. It had beensaturated by the rain, the hood lay back, and an empty luncheon basketlay open on the seat.

  Evidently, they had left the car with the full intention of returning toit immediately, and were prevented by some unforeseen calamity. Honorquivered with alarm and misgiving. Where were they if not in thepalace--killed, or injured and unable to help themselves?

  Her mind flew to wild animals.

  Though it had been a long accepted legend that tigers and leopards hadbeen driven out of the neighbourhood, and had not been seen for yearswithin a radius of twenty to thirty miles, it was still possible that astray leopard or tiger had lately found a refuge in the neglectedprecincts of the ruins.

  Honor was unarmed and terribly afraid. The fate that had overtaken herfriends might easily be hers a few steps further. Prudence andself-preservation dictated immediate flight and a call for asearch-party. At the same time, having come so far it seemed her duty tocontinue till she was convinced that she could do no more. There was thepossibility that Captain Dalton had met with an accident and Joyce,unable to leave him, was in dire need of help. Honor felt she wouldcease to respect herself forever if she deserted her friends at themoment of their greatest need.

  She hesitated no further, but stumbled forward over the uneven ground,desperately anxious and frightened, yet nerved to face any danger.

  Another bend of the track brought the palace into view--a darkconglomerate pile of crumbling masonry which looked frowningly down uponher, its walls weather-beaten and scarred by time, and with rankvegetation sprouting from every crack. A pipal tree flourished aloftabove its dome, its roots buried in the concrete and clinging to thewalls; while festoons of wild convolvulus hung in profusion from thelower branches.

  Moisture still dripped from the leaves, and the earth was soddenunderfoot. Lofty arches yawned in the sunlight and a silence as of thegrave reigned, broken only by an occasional caw from an inquisitivecrow, or the intermittent chattering of apes.

  Again Honor came upon signs of forcible penetration--wild creepers tornaside to make a path, and jungle hacked out of the way; no easy task.Her friends had evidently been determined not to accept defeat in theireffort to reach the interior of the ruin.

  It was a year since Honor had visited the spot and it seemed to her thatthe shape of the building had changed. One wing had partially collapsed;whether recently, or some months ago, she could not tell, but it did notlook quite the same. Here and there, boulders of freshly fallen masonrystrewed the path. There was no doubt that the edifice was slowly fallingto pieces.

  Raising her hands to her lips, she gave a loud, Australian "_coo-ee!_"and listened while its echo called back to her....

  Was it an echo?

  Honor held her breath to listen, and heard it again--a man's voicecalling--"Hulloa!--_coo-ee!_"