Holkar clapped his hands, and having attracted the attention of one of his native officers, ordered him to send for the prisoner. That done, he continued to converse with the French colonel in confidential whispers. There was not the smallest doubt this white officer had the command of the troops under the Mahratta chieftain and was a power in the land. Also he was deeply antagonistic to the British, for the simple reason that he was a Frenchman, and perhaps for some other reason. For those who knew him could tell the tale that the name of an Englishman was hateful to this white officer, and that whenever he mentioned those of that nationality his lip curled, while his teeth showed as if he were about to snarl. Indeed, there were some who said that Colonel Le Pourton had some particular cause for hatred--a cause which he kept very closely to himself. Ten minutes later Owen was ushered into the room. "A bold dog," said the Colonel, beneath his breath, as our hero entered, his head in air and a look of indignation on his face. "He must have known the danger of coming to the capital of Holkar, and yet he means now to beard the chieftain. Truly these British are impossible!" A moment later, as he obtained a full view of Owen's face, he started and changed colour. "Mon dieu! How like!" he exclaimed, while his colour went and he became deathly pale. "If it could be----" "Who are you? Your name?" he demanded fiercely in Mahratti. "Owen Jones, Cornet in His Majesty's 7th native cavalry. And you?" The Colonel gave a gasp of relief. "How like to him!" he murmured again. "If it were not for the name I could have thought that it was his son. Pshaw! How could it be? He is lost. Lost for ever!" He ground his teeth and snarled at Owen, who returned his glances boldly and advanced to within a couple of yards of the Mahratta chieftain, his eyes blazing, ready to denounce him for his act of treachery. For, though young as yet, Owen had learned many things since he joined the army. And one was that humility before a chieftain of Holkar's class was not profitable. Underneath all the arrogance of these native princes there lurked a wholesome dread of the British, and Owen knew that mild remonstrance would be of little service to him. He must let this chieftain know that his act would not go unpunished, and that if he continued his violence all his troops would be insufficient to protect him. He was in the very act of launching forth when Colonel Le Pourton again interrupted him. "You say that you are Cornet Owen Jones," he said in breathless and excited tones. "Tell us where you come from in England. Speak, and let it be the truth." "The truth!" Owen swung round upon him, his face flushing. "Please remember that an Englishman boasts that he always tells the truth. Who are you who ask these questions?"