He wrapped his scarf around him so as to hide his pistols and tulwar, and drawing his puggeree over his face, he passed out, attended by his followers. At a little distance a native carriage was waiting, and into this they sprang, and Meerut was speedily far behind. Then the crowd of natives quietly left the ruined temple, and soon the roofless halls were silent and deserted, and the slimy things that had sought shelter from the trampling feet, in the nooks and crannies, timidly came forth now, in search of prey, upon which they might feed so that they might live in accordance with the instinct planted by a Divine hand. But the hundreds of human beings who a little while before had held possession of the temple had also gone forth in search of prey, thirsting for blood--blood of the innocent and guilty alike--not that they might live thereby, but to gratify a burning feeling of hatred and revenge. On the verandah of Mrs. Meredith’s bungalow stood Flora Meredith alone. It was late, or rather early, for two o’clock had just sounded from the neighbouring barracks. Flora had been vainly endeavouring to sleep, but an undefined sense of dread had kept her awake, so that at last she had risen from her couch and gone out on the verandah, glad to breathe the cool morning air. Pensively she was gazing up to the stars, which still shone clear and bright, although the first streaks of dawn were struggling to the eastern sky. She was dreaming of the man she loved, of the man who had her heart in his keeping, whose wife she was to be. She had an intuitive perception that there was danger coming--that, to use an expressive Hindostanee phrase, “there was something in the air.” But what did that something portend, and where did the danger menace? were questions she asked herself as she stood there--a picture of loveliness--in her loose robe, and her beautiful hair flowing freely about her white shoulders. Unperceived by her, the figure of a dusky native was stealthily stealing across the compound, keeping in the shadows of the trees and shrubs, until he stood beneath the verandah. Then, with a noiseless spring, he vaulted lightly over the railings, and stood beside the dreaming girl. With a cry of alarm, Flora started from her reverie, and, turning quickly round, beheld Jewan Bukht. “What do you do here?” she asked quickly, when she had recovered from her surprise. “Hush!” he said, putting his finger to his lips. “Your life depends upon silence. I have something to say to you.” She was a brave girl; but her heart sank now, for she knew that his boldness arose from some terrible cause. Her presence of mind, however, did not forsake her. To set this man at defiance would be to gain nothing. She would endeavour to learn his motive for coming. “What is the meaning of this unceremonious intrusion at such an hour?” she asked, when her first feeling of alarm had passed.