might have been startled at the ready complicity of fate in his crime. He walked jauntily out of the Bank after having counted his notes and exchanged a few pleasant words with the cashier. Then he resolved that this new "loan," as he preferred to call it, should be devoted to carrying his wife from the hot plains to a hill sanatorium, and had eagerly hurried home to divulge his plans. Nemesis, however, began to dog his steps with appalling swiftness. The very next afternoon at the High Court, when he was engaged in conducting a case on the success of which he was eagerly reckoning, it came with rapid strides. Adorned with his wig and gown, he was holding forth, unusually pungent and successful in his arguments, when who should he see standing by the door watching him with a sardonic smile but Zynool Sahib! The beady eyes flashed fire, and the amber face had the look of a beast of prey. From the moment that Alfred Rayner's eye lighted on the man whom he had wronged, he had not a shadow of doubt that the Mahomedan was aware of the fraud so lightly perpetrated on him; and he knew also that he could expect no mercy at his hands. There was a malignant triumph in Zynool's eyes which told that he had trapped his victim. "Trapped"--the word echoed in the barrister's head as he made a violent effort to continue his speech; but he, who had been so glib in his arguments a moment before, now stammered and looked so faint that even the Judge did not fail to notice his threatening collapse, and more than one pair of eyes were fixed on him with a questioning stare. Nor did the torture of his spirit lessen when he observed that a Mussulman attendant had crept up to Zynool and whispered something which caused the Mahomedan to leave the court-room quickly. "There's a warrant waiting for me outside," he groaned inwardly. When the Court broke up Rayner quite expected to find his declared foe waiting at the door, surrounded by emissaries of the law, but he was nowhere to be seen. Presently, however, he was approached by a peon from the Bank, who politely handed him a letter from the manager. "Ha, the fat's in the fire, sure enough! I'm as good as hauled off to prison," he muttered. Then an inspiration seized him. Glancing at the phlegmatic peon he told him to wait for his reply. He went in search of the Mahomedan official whom he had observed talking to Zynool before he left the Court. The man being of a lower rank, Rayner decided that Zynool would probably have made no communication to him concerning the forgery. "Is Zynool still in town?" he asked. "He is not," was the reply. "He intended to remain in town, for he said he had important business, but his son-in-law came with news--veree grave news from Puranapore." There was a threatening of a riot in Puranapore, it seemed, and it was feared that Zynool's house might be attacked, so he had hastened back by the earliest train.