Suddenly she turned to Rana Raj Singh--touched his hand again. "You and I have quarreled, because I rode from my palace at night, unattended, to the residence of Mr. Blake, who is a bachelor! You are leaving me--riding away in disgust with all your men! I will spread that story. All Narada shall have heard it by to-morrow noon. So you shall be a surprise to the Brahmins. Watch Quorn--keep yourself and your men under cover--let Mr. Blake know where you are, so that he can find you or get a message to you without any one suspecting you are in secret touch with me." She smiled at Blake. "Everybody knows that Mr. Blake would never stoop to interference in local intrigue, so no one will suspect him--not even his government." Blake winced. Smoking in a powder magazine is a sane, safe and comfortable form of self-preservation in comparison to overstepping the bounds of diplomatic privilege in India. However, he who coined the motto "safety first" forgot that safety is the enemy of all adventure and of all things new, as well as of the ancient virtues such as chivalry. "Oh, damn!" said Blake. "Well, go on. What next? I'm in for it." "Each to his task," said the Ranee. "I go home. If any of you happens to see Bamjee, don't be too rough with him, but send him to me at the palace. Good night, Mr. Quorn. I hope your ankles and wrists will soon get well again." Suddenly she remembered she had made Quorn her special agent with full authority. "Is the plan all right? Is it a good one?" "Yes, miss. Good as any other, I guess." "Very well then, it stands. Mr. Blake, shall we let them ride away before you take me to the palace?" Ten minutes later she bowed to convention enough to let Blake hold her stirrup while she swung into the saddle. Less than thirty seconds after their backs were turned--almost before the lamp-light ceased to gleam on their horses' quarters--Blake's office window was gently raised and a man stepped out on the veranda. One of Blake's servants saw him, started after him. The man waited and the servant rushed him. The man stepped aside. A silken handkerchief flickered almost too fast for human eyes to follow and the servant fell face forward, separated from his life as if electric energy had drawn his very nerves into itself. He did not move. He made no sound except the thump of falling. For a second the owner of the handkerchief stood on the rail of the veranda, holding to an upright, listening. Then he leaped into a shadow and was gone. CHAPTER VI. AT THE FEET OF SIVA. Siva's temple stands on Siva's breast, which is a hill. Kali is the dreadful bride of Siva. Kali's temple stands on Kali's breast, which is another hill.