In an honourable determination not to lead Lord Florencecourt into any meeting with the Indian woman which could bear the appearance of a trap, George had ordered Sundran to return to town at once, and to get everything ready for her mistress’s return on Monday. But Sundran had lost the train, and had to put off her journey; so that she was in the station on Saturday morning, waiting to go by the very train in which her master and mistress so hastily decided to travel. She was waiting on the platform, a limp bundle of white clothes, too proud to take shelter in the waiting-room from curious glances, but flashing looks of grand contempt around her with her black eyes, when she caught sight of her young mistress in the doorway, and hastened up to her with a low cry of loving welcome. The train was coming up, and as it was market day, there was a bustling and mildly-excited crowd on the platform, jostling one another with baskets, and chivying to madness the solitary porter. In the confusion Lord Florencecourt was for a few moments separated from his departing guests, whom he rejoined just as Nouna had mounted into an empty compartment, and was handing her sunshade to Sundran, who was standing on the doorstep. George stood on the platform, much excited; as soon as he caught sight of Lord Florencecourt, for whom the crowd made way with respectful recognition, he told Sundran sharply that he had got a seat for her, and she must come to it at once. She stepped down, and he put his hand on her arm, and made her turn her back to Lord Florencecourt, and run. In doing so she dropped Nouna’s sunshade. Before George could prevent her she had stopped, wheeled round to pick it up, and seen the Colonel face to face. With a hoarse and guttural cry she drew herself upright, pointing at him with a lean, dark finger. “Captain Weston!” she hissed out fiercely, while her black eyes flashed, and her fingers clenched as if she would have flown at his throat. Lord Florencecourt saw her; over his rugged features a dull flush spread, dying again quickly; he raised his hat mechanically, not looking at Nouna; and without any change in the fixed expression of dead reserve he had worn all the morning, turned and made his way through the yielding crowd out of the station. George bundled Sundran into a carriage, and went back to his wife just in time to jump in as the train started. A quick, shy glance at her face told him she had heard the Indian woman’s words. CHAPTER XXI. George Lauriston was not a dull-witted man; but the shock of astonishment he suffered when Sundran recognised Lord Florencecourt as “Captain Weston,” for a few moments paralysed his thoughts and prevented his realising all the complications to which the discovery gave rise. His first thought was for its effect upon his wife. He scarcely dared to look at her. But after the train had started she came to him and forced her face up into his.