The stranger, who had been sleeping in the room previously occupied by Gordon and Haidee, awoke with the break of day, and going to his buggy, he procured a small brass lotah and some food; then he crossed the compound to the cook-house and tried the door, but found it fastened. He tried it again; put his shoulder to it; still it did not yield. “That is strange,” he muttered, in Hindoostanee. “It seems to be fastened on the inside.” “By heavens--I have heard that voice before?” Gordon whispered excitedly to Haidee. “There is only one man, and, at all hazards, I will see who it is.” He undid the fastening carefully, and opened the door, having first drawn his revolver. The stranger had crossed over to the tank, and was stooping down, filling his brass vessel with water. The door made a slight noise on being opened. The stranger, whose senses were quickened by being constantly on the alert for danger, sprang up, dropping his dish, which sank in the water, and with a rapid movement of his arm, he drew a revolver. As Gordon saw who the man was, his surprise overcame his caution, and he exclaimed-- “I thought I was not mistaken, Haidee--it is the villain, Jewan Bukht!” It was Jewan; he was on his way to Delhi, to seek reinforcements in the name of Nana Sahib. Master and servant had met. Master and servant were face to face, and one of them must die. Jewan recognised his old master’s voice in an instant, and, with the instinct of self-preservation, which is ever uppermost in the human mind, he sprang behind the cocoa-nut trees, and covered the door of the cook-house with his revolver. In his uncontrollable excitement, consequent on this unexpected and strange meeting, Gordon exposed himself to the aim of his foe. Jewan fired, but his aim was high, and his bullet went crashing through the roof of the little building. Bukht was looking out to see if his shot had taken effect, when Gordon seized the opportunity, and fired; but the bullet only struck the tree. It was certain that one of the men must fall, for neither could leave his shelter without exposing himself to the fire of the other. “Walter Gordon, you shall not escape me!” Jewan cried tauntingly. “I have friends, who will be coming along the road soon, and they shall burn you out.” “Villain and traitor!” Gordon answered; “you have professed Christianity, and worshipped in the Christian faith; and I tell you that that God, whose name you have often invoked, will guide my bullet, and recognise the justice of my cause.” A part of Jewan’s shoulder was exposed, and Gordon fired again--but again missed--the bullet passing a little too high, and grazing the bark of the tree. He was ordinarily a good shot, but his nerves were unsteady now with excitement, and he could not take proper aim. “Ah, ah, ah!” laughed Jewan as he returned the fire. “Your bullets need guiding, I think.” Gordon was inclined to go out and openly attack his enemy, but Haidee would not permit it.