"'What now?' cried the exasperated prince as he fixed his eyes, vivid with rage at the unwelcome interruption, upon the miserable creature. "In reply the woman raised her shriveled hand, with a gesture that was not without its weird impressiveness, and pointed to his apartments. "'Speak!' he demanded with a modification of his intensity, which he perceived deprived the waiting-woman of the power of speech. "'A messenger,' she croaked, 'from the palace of the moghul; he must speak with thee at once.' "With one long glance of such concentrated determination that it caused the beautiful girl to tremble anew, the prince vanished through the portal and hastened along the passageway. "Scarcely had he departed when the demeanor of the waiting-woman underwent a startling transformation. "An incredible degree of energy quickened in the recoil of her bent form to a disproportionate erectness of stature. "Beneath level, unwavering lids, her eyes emitted gleams which had pierced the retreating figure with deadly viciousness had they been poniards. "The servile vanished, the abject; and she stood, the silent embodiment of evil, restrained purpose. "The next instant, with an angry gesture that was vaguely significant of future requital and present impotence, the vindictive creature swept aside the curtains and re-entered the room leading to the apartment occupied by Lal Lu. "As she approached the disturbed beauty, the tension in her mien relaxed, and she regarded the _distrait_ countenance before her with a glance that was anything but unfriendly, in so far as it was possible to determine the nature of the sentiment in hiding behind that austere visage. "Directly she stood by the table which Lal Lu had interposed as a sort of barricade against advances of her impetuous lover, and with an attempt at a smile, which could as readily find acceptance as a repentant scowl, this singular being inserted her hand in the folds of the tunic which defended her parchment bosom, and produced from that barren demesne a folded missive, which she placed in the hands of the astonished Lal Lu. "With trembling haste she exposed the inner surface of the paper, and with a glad heart and filial trust read: "'Be not afraid; relief is at hand.' "There was no signature; none was needed. "In a moment Lal Lu recognized her father's familiar chirography, and as she reflected upon his well-known sagacity and resourceful boldness, her hope and courage renewed their belated assurances. "'Who gave you this?' she asked. "The waiting-woman, after a brief hesitation, in which inclination and restraint left their disturbing traces, replied: "'That I must not reveal.' "'At least,' insisted Lal Lu, whose quick glance had detected the irresolution of the instant preceding, 'at least, tell me this: Was it my father?'