Then the wily Hindu changed his tactics, showing as little regard for consistency as he had done for truth. He declared—shedding tears to confirm his words—that the widow was to him as a daughter; she had been brought up in purdah; she would die of shame, she would kill herself, if forced to leave her seclusion. The commissioner’s only reply to this pathetic appeal was a reiterated command to produce her. If she were not brought into court, an order to search the fort would be given. There were murmurs of anger and looks of indignation amongst the bystanders, even low threats might be heard; but Mr. Thole was determined to carry his point, and he did so. After tedious delay, a form, supported between two old women—for it seemed almost ready to fall—appeared in the court. The form was so entirely muffled from head to foot in a large white sheet that its shape could scarcely be defined. A silence prevailed which was broken by the commissioner’s voice: “Remove the sheet; the woman must be identified, or the case cannot proceed.” Thákar Dás fell on his knees, and flung his turban on the ground in a passion of distress. Shedding plenteous tears, he exclaimed, “My daughter! my daughter! she will never survive the shame of being uncovered before the eyes of strangers. O your highness! O dispenser of justice! spare me and my house this terrible disgrace.” The Hartleys felt pity for the humbled chief. Harold stepped forward, and addressing the commissioner said: “Might it not be sufficient, sir, for my wife to see and identify this lady?” “Let Mrs. Hartley ascertain that the person in court, who from her feebleness appears to be of great age, is really identical with the young widow in question,” said Mr. Thole. Alicia approached the drooping figure before her, encountering as she did so a look of mingled anger and terror from Jai Dé, who was one of the women acting the part of supporter. Gently the lady drew back a part of the shrouding sheet, and then started back with an exclamation of horror. “They have been murdering her!” cried Alicia. The old women, relaxing their hold, retreated backwards, and the veiled form sank on the ground. “Water! bring water!” cried Robin, and he rushed out to procure some. The sheet was at once and entirely removed from the slight form of the senseless sufferer. With unutterable indignation the Europeans beheld the young girl’s bleeding and bruised face, still bearing tokens of delicate beauty, and the white arms on which the marks of violence showed how cruelly the fair creature had been treated. Harold, kneeling, supported poor Premi in his arms, whilst his wife bent over her with all the tenderness of a sister. “A European, without the shadow of a doubt!” muttered Mr. Thole with indignation. “If my poor young countrywoman die, there is some one here who shall swing for it.”