"I know you say so. And because he--Fo-Hi--is not sure and because of the piece of the scorpion which you find there, we go to that house-- _he_ and I--and we fail in what we go for." Chunda Lal's hand dropped limply to his sides. "Ah! I cannot understand, Miska. If we are not sure then, are we sure _now?_ It may be"--he bent towards her--"we are trapped!" "Oh, what do you mean?" "We do not know how much they read of what he had written. Why do we wait?" _"He_ has some plan, Chunda Lal," replied Miska wearily. "Does he ever fail?" Her words rekindled the Hindu's ardour; his eyes lighted up anew. "I tell you his plan," he whispered tensely. "Oh! you shall hear me! He watch you grow from a little lovely child, as he watch his death-spiders and his grey scorpions grow! He tend you and care for you and make you perfect, and he plan for you as he plan for this other creatures. Then, he see what I see, that you are not only his servant but also a woman and that you have a woman's heart. He learn--who think he knows all--that he, too, is not yet a spirit but only a man, and have a man's heart, a man's blood, a man's longings! It is because of the Doctor Sahib that he learn it----" He grasped Miska again, but she struggled to elude him. "Oh, let me go!" she pleaded. "It is madness you speak!" "It is madness, yes--for _you!_ Always I have watched, always I have waited; and I also have seen you bloom like a rose in the desert. To-night I am here--watching ... and _he_ knows it! Tomorrow I am gone! Do you stay, for--_him?_ "Oh," she whispered fearfully, "it cannot be." "You say true when you say I have been your only friend, Miska. To-morrow _he_ plan that you have no friend." He released her, and slowly, from the sleeve of his coat, slipped into view the curved blade of a native knife. _"Ali Khan Bhai Salam!"_ he muttered--by which formula he proclaimed himself a _Thug!_ Rolling his eyes in the direction of the eastern wall, he concealed the knife. "Chunda Lal!" Miska spoke wildly. "I am frightened! Please let me go, and tomorrow----" "To-morrow!" Chunda Lal raised his eyes, which were alight with the awful light of fanaticism. "For me there may be no tomorrow! _Jey Bhowani! Yah Allah!"_ "Oh, _he_ may hear you!" whispered Miska pitifully. "Please go now. I shall know that you are near me, if----" "And then?" "I will ask your aid." Her voice was very low. "And if it is written that I succeed?" Miska averted her head. "Oh, Chunda Lal ... I cannot." She hid her face in her hands. Chunda Lal stood watching her for a moment in silence, then he turned toward the cellar door, and then again to Miska. Suddenly he dropped upon one knee before her, took her hand and kissed it, gently. "I am your slave," he said, his voice shaken with emotion. "For myself I ask nothing--only your pity."