Towards the middle of February the nights were becoming warm. At any rate, Verona found it difficult to rest; and on more than one occasion she rose, slipped on her shoes and a long cloak, and set forth to wander along the old familiar path by the river. The air was cool and refreshing after a close room (they had not yet begun punkahs), and one night she was tempted to stroll beyond her usual bounds, towards a certain lonely spot--the desolate garden of an old bungalow which had fallen into ruins. This garden was a jungle of trees and creepers; bamboos, loquats and apricots struggled fiercely for spaces--beautiful roses, gone mad, threw their shoots in all directions. Here the blue jay and the golden orioles were undisturbed--it was a wilderness of flowers and birds, far from the hurry and dust of the outer world. Few ever passed that way, because the old ruined house had an evil name, and was reputed to be haunted. Verona had discovered this sanctuary, and many a half-hour she spent, sitting on the steps of the verandah, whilst Johnny darted about among the neighbouring branches, and played on a circular stone platform close by--a "chabootra," where in former days the family had enjoyed the air and tea--raised a few inches from undesirable insects, and snakes. To this retreat Verona had now wound her steps, and as she made her way among the bushes she was aware that someone else was in the garden--someone who was singing "The Jewel of Asia." She approached, and thrusting aside the high plumes of the grass blossoms, beheld a tableau which rooted her to the spot. Dominga--on the chabootra--wearing a low evening dress, her hair crowned by a wreath of passion flowers, was not merely singing, but dancing! As she sang she held with extended arms her flowing white skirts, and weaved the most dainty measures. She moved with the true "bird-like step" and the swaying, undulating grace of her renowned grandmother, the Nautch girl! Naturally Dom was not singing or dancing solely for her own amusement, or the entertainment of roof cats, owls and night-jars. As she executed her fairy-like _pas seul_ on the stone platform, the "Honourable," cigarette in mouth, lounged by the edge of the verandah, and clapped applause. Whilst Verona stood transfixed, this pretty scene fell to pieces, for Dom, in answer to a gesture from Jimmy, turned, saw her sister, and uttered a piercing shriek. "Hush--sh!" said her companion, rising simultaneously to his feet--and the occasion. "Quite the time of day to be out--is it not, Miss Chandos?" sauntering towards her as he spoke. "I wandered over to Manora, and had the good luck to meet first your sister--and now yourself!" "Oh, Verona!" cried Dominga, "what a fright you did give me! I thought you were the ghost! You know this place is haunted by those Mutiny people who were killed here." "I assure you that I was equally startled," rejoined the other in a frosty voice.