It had shown knowledge of the character of the man with whom he had to deal when Mr. Hartley in his letter had put the case of Premi first; had he begun with a complaint regarding the violent carrying off of the Brahmin convert, Mr. Thole would have felt no sympathy, and have put the case aside for a while, muttering some abuse of missionaries as weak, meddling, mischievous men. But “What will they say in England?” rose to Mr. Thole’s mind, to quicken his interest in the romantic story of the long-lost Miranda. The commissioners indignation was also roused by the personal attack made on an English youth by the Hindus; he admired the young man’s courage, while undervaluing the missionary’s zeal. Talwandi was in a state of great excitement on the following morning when the news that the Commissioner Sahib had arrived spread like wild-fire through the town. Thákar Dás naturally connected the great man’s coming with the attack on the mission bungalow, and the blow received by Robin Hartley from the hand of one of the chief’s attendants. Thákar Dás determined utterly to disclaim having had anything to do with such a breach of the law; he would declare that he had never approved of violence, that the attack had been made without his sanction, and even without his knowledge. The Hindu was wily as a fox; but whilst avoiding the trap, he found himself in an unsuspected pit. Numbers of the inhabitants of Talwandi crowded the court, which was held in a tent. Mr. Hartley and his sons were present, and Kripá Dé in their midst, the object of fierce, angry invectives from the people, who were restrained from more violent persecution only by the august presence of Mr. Thole. The commissioner opened the sitting in a way utterly unexpected by the Hindus. It was as if a bomb-shell had fallen amongst them when Mr. Hartley, coming forward, in a clear voice requested the production in court of a widow, known by the name of Premi, whom he could prove to be an Englishwoman, Miranda Macfinnis, detained unlawfully in the fort. Mr. Thole sternly demanded of the chief, Thákar Dás, whether he knew anything of such a person. Thákar Dás was utterly taken aback. At first he stammered forth a flat denial that such an individual had ever been seen at Talwandi. “Can any witnesses be produced?” asked the commissioner. “There are two present,” was Mr. Hartley’s reply: “one, this young Brahmin, who saw the English child when she was first brought into the fort, and has had frequent opportunities of conversing with her since; the other, this lady.” He turned towards Alicia, who with a thick veil down was standing beside her husband. “Mrs. Hartley has not only seen the widow more than once, but has heard from her lips a fragment of an English hymn which could not have been learned from her Hindu companions.” “Let this Premi be produced at once,” the commissioner said in a tone of command.