“The door is not strong enough to stand much of this!” cried Robin; and snatching up a stick which was at hand, he looked ready for another battle with the foe. Harold went up to the closed door, and his voice rang out in clear tones, which were heard above the battering and the furious demands for admittance. “Back with you all!” he cried.—“Thákar Dás, it is no light matter to break into an Englishman’s home!” “Give up Kripá Dé! give up the wretch, the apostate!” yelled the Hindus. Then a brief lull of silence ensued, that the reply might be heard. “We will never give him up but with our lives,” said Harold firmly. “If you think that you have a right to imprison and poison him, bring your case into court; we expect the commissioner here to-morrow.” This announcement was startling to the Hindus, who had a wholesome dread of bringing on themselves the wrath of the Sircar. Thákar Dás and his followers knew that the two attacks on the dwelling of one of the ruling race would be likely to expose them to serious consequences, which they had no wish to meet. Heartily glad were the Hartleys that the letter to Mr. Thole had been so promptly penned, so quickly despatched. “Will you not tell them, my Harold,” said Alicia, “that we have proofs that Premi is of English birth?” “No!” cried both the brothers almost in a breath; and the elder added: “If the Hindus knew that this second charge—that of imprisoning our countrywoman—could be brought against them, poor Premi would be only too likely to disappear mysteriously before we could claim her.” “Can the Hindus have gone away?” cried Alicia; “a wonderful stillness has succeeded to that terrible noise.” “They are going away like baffled hounds,” said Robin, who was making a survey. “We were about to kneel down to pray,” observed Mr. Hartley; “let us do so now, and join our praises to our prayers. This has been a day of wonderful mercies.” Very fervent were the thanksgivings which rose from the missionaries’ home. After all had risen from their knees, Robin observed, “I will sit up to-night; these jackals may return for their prey.” “_You_ sit up, looking like a ghost as you do!” exclaimed Harold. “You have played your part bravely to-day, old boy, and have left your elder brother nothing but the office of a chankidar [watchman]. We must all remain in the house to-night; but to prevent semi-suffocation the doors must be open. I give you my word that I will not sleep on my post.” Harold kept his word, watching till morning; but the attack on the bungalow was not repeated. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XVII THE COMMISSIONER.