And thus it happened that Lady Haigh and Georgia formed part of the mournful procession that accompanied the doctor’s rude coffin to its resting-place in the King’s garden. The streets and house-tops were crowded with people, who gazed eagerly and in silence at the British flag which covered the remains, and at the little group of Englishmen, sad-faced and stern, who followed. Many of those in the crowd owed relief from disease, or even life itself, to Dr Headlam’s skill, yet no sign of grief was exhibited by any one. But neither was there any attempt at mockery or sign of unfriendliness; the people seemed to watch the proceedings with intense and absorbing curiosity, much, thought Georgia, as the inhabitants of Mexico might have contemplated a religious ceremony performed by Cortes and his Spaniards. The same interest was shown at the cemetery, where another crowd had assembled, that listened expectantly to the unfamiliar accents as Sir Dugald read the Burial Service, and pressed forward eagerly to see what was happening when Lady Haigh and Georgia came to the grave-side and threw their flowers upon the coffin. The party from the Mission remained beside the grave until it was filled up and a rough wooden tablet erected, bearing the doctor’s name and the date of his death, and then returned sadly home, parting from Rustam Khan and his attendants as soon as they reached the city gate. Now that the last honours had been paid to the dead, it was time, as Sir Dugald had said to Dick, to think of the living, and the four Englishmen and Kustendjian met on the terrace to discuss the state of affairs. The latest cause for anxiety arose from the fact that Rustam Khan had shown a strong disposition to emphasise the truth that he attended the funeral merely as the representative of his father. He had declined to ride side by side with Sir Dugald after the coffin, and had displayed a determination, which under less painful circumstances would have been almost ludicrous, to avoid direct communication with any of the party. “The moral of which is,” said Sir Dugald, “that we are by no means out of the wood yet, but rather deeper in it than before, if possible. If Rustam Khan is afraid to be seen speaking to us, or even to show the friendly feeling the occasion might seem to demand, it looks to my mind as though he knew that he had been accused to his father of plotting with us to deprive him of the throne, and wished to assert his innocence.” “It strikes one that such a very pointed change of manner would be calculated to awaken suspicion rather than to lull it,” said Stratford--“though, of course, Rustam Khan must be the best judge of that. But we are singularly destitute of information to-day. Even Hicks would be better than no one.”