"Oh, for the matter of that, some other people did splendidly too! I saw your tussle over that child with that brute of a Hindu. It was refreshing, Cheveril; only, I felt sorry he was a Hindu, and not a Mahomedan. Anyhow, I'm bound to say, the Collector held the balance even when put on his mettle. I expect all this will act as a thunderstorm and clear the atmosphere. We'll be well rid of Zynool and some of his crew. Yes, I'll look in for a moment and see Worsley. Any message? I forget if he knew Rayner? Of course I'll tell him of the tragedy, and of your share in it." Mark, on thinking of it, felt relieved that he would not be the bearer of the tidings of the terrible fate of the man he knew the Collector had good reason to dislike. He was conscious that in Mr. Worsley's feelings there would be a sense of relief when he heard of the swift release which this tragedy would bring to the young wife whom he had liked and pitied. For his own part, the knowledge of that release brought no lightening as yet to his sad thoughts. Through the long hours of the past night he had come face to face with a great experience. He had watched "a human soul take wing," and the sense of it being a "fearful thing" to see was very present with him. So heavily did it lie on his heart, he had no thought for aught else; and to Hester, he knew the awful news must bring unutterable pain. To know that the man with whom she had embarked on life's voyage--though he had proved not "one to ride the water with," as the saying is--had been tragically engulfed, would indeed prove a crushing blow. How could he, just because he was so full of comprehending sympathy, be the one to carry the news to the wife that their bark had foundered in dark, treacherous waters, and that he who should have been the mainstay was lost in the whirlpool? More and more did he shrink from the task before him as the train carried him to Madras. CHAPTER XXXVII. As Mark Cheveril was stepping out of the railway carriage in the Madras station, a hand was laid upon his shoulder. "The very man I was anxious to meet this morning," said Mr. Morpeth, fixing his deep grey eyes on his young friend. "In fact, it was my anxiety about all of you at Puranapore that brought me here at this hour. I heard rumours yesterday of an impending riot in the town. Then I had a bad dream! I haven't actually visited the place for years, but I saw you all with a furious mob round you, and big champing horses riding over you. I feared you and Mr. Worsley might be in trouble. But I'm glad to see you're all safe, anyhow, Cheveril. But you do look a bit jaded. Has the rioting been serious? Come and tell me all about it." The old man put his arm through Mark's, and walked down the platform with him.