Vane struck his boot a smart rap with the end of his whip. "Oh, hang it!" he exclaimed. "That was bad. It's shocking enough to be obliged to meet one's own i.o.u.'s; but to settle up for another fellow is monstrous. My sympathy there is with the Rani, though it wasn't our fault, you know." "Yes, I thought that would appeal to you," remarked the Commissioner dryly, "but if I am not mistaken that matter of killing cows, in spite of her protests, has enraged her more than the loss of either the Jhansi throne or the revenue. That, was an unnecessary insult to her religious sensibilities. Now what I maintain is this, if she has been waiting for a favorable opportunity to strike a blow for what she may regard as her lost position and injured feelings, the present is as good a one as she is likely to be afforded. Her influence with the people is, I am convinced, a quantity worth taking into account." Vane yawned with the heat and the little interest he felt in both the subject and the visit. He was satisfied that the Commissioner's fears were groundless, that there was not the slightest danger of an outbreak in Jhansi, and only with difficulty had he been persuaded to accompany his colleague to the Rani's palace. "In any case, suppose there is something in your idea," he asked, "what can she do"? "That is exactly what we are going to try and discover," returned the Commissioner firmly. They had arrived before the main entrance to the palace. They dismounted and handed the reins of their horses to the native orderly. Vane glanced contemptuously at an obsequious aged servant who had come forth to receive them, and round upon the drowsy appearance of the buildings. "Conspiracy! Uprising of the people! Nonsense"! he ejaculated. "Hawksley's imagination has gone wandering. I'd wager six months' pay the girl is trembling at the bare idea of our visit." As the request for an audience had been made upon the spur of the moment, the Commissioner regarded it as a favorable sign that the Rani consented to receive them without delay. They were ushered through an inner courtyard surrounded by cloisters, in the shade of which a few Natives awoke to salute the Foreign Sahibs as they passed. Thence through dark halls and ante-chambers, in which the echo of their footsteps alone broke the profound silence that had descended on the palace. At last they crossed the threshold of the _Darbar_ hall. At the further end of the noble chamber, where for centuries it had been the custom of the Princes of Jhansi to dispense justice, she, from whom justice had been withheld, stood to receive her visitors. In the sight of the two officers as they gazed down a nave of pillars supporting the ornately decorated roof, she appeared as the statue of some divinity in the far perspective of an ancient temple--a youthful, white robed, graceful figure, brought into strong relief by a dark background of gold embroidered arras.