"Oh, well, when a native wants to find out something, he gets hold of a small boy, bribes him with promises, takes him to some quiet spot, pours ink into the palm of his hand and commands him to look, and to report what he sees!" "Yes----" "The seer is supposed to describe some remarkable scenes. One of my constables consulted the oracle with respect to Saloo. Personally and officially I am not supposed to countenance such--irregularities." "No, but you heard the result," said the young lady, with an air of conviction. "What did the child see? What did he say?" "He said he saw Saloo--and that Saloo was a woman!" "Oh!" cried Verona, suddenly sitting erect. "Now that is too ridiculous; no woman could be so crafty--or so--wicked." "Many women are both." "You speak from experience----?" "No, thank God; I know little about them!" For a moment there was an absolute silence, merely broken by the soft lapping of the water against the sides of the old boat. Salwey looked at his companion as she reclined among the cushions; her home life was telling upon her, the East was stealing her rare beauty, her face was colourless, the exquisite outlines of cheek and throat were emaciated, and the brilliant eyes looked lack-lustre and spiritless. "Tell me," she began suddenly, "is it only children who see things in the ink pool?" "Yes. Only children!" "But why?" "They are supposed to be endowed with some ethereal gift, which remains with them until their hearts are touched, their emotions awake; then it leaves them--the power is lost--the door, as they say out here, is shut." "What a pity! I wonder if I am too old to look into the ink pool?" "You have never, I infer, cared two straws for any one?" She shook her head--slowly--and as she did so the truth came to her in one dazzling flash--she cared for _him_! He had touched her heart. It was amazing to discover that of all her suitors, with their advantages of social status, wealth, surroundings, the only one who had aroused her interest was this Indian police officer, who sat there within a few yards, bareheaded, grave-eyed, with his arms resting on the oars. It was true that he was poor; a miserable "parti" from a worldly point of view, but he was a strong man!--a strong man, armed with many fine qualities, who had entered her heart and closed the door on all others. Were she still Verona--the heiress--she would gladly be his wife, but as Verona--the Eurasian--she must keep her secret from him and all. But oh, what a temptation! To go away from Manora, to forget--to go with Brian, who loved her--for her own sake----! No, no, no; for his own sake she would never marry Brian Salwey. As the lady's reply was a suspiciously long time in coming, her companion said: "Besides, you are disqualified! If you have never loved--many have loved you!" "What do you mean?" she asked. "How can--you know? At home----" "At home I imagine your conquests were Legion. Out here--there is Haig."