“That is good,” Emily murmured; “if this woman remains faithful, her services will be invaluable.” “I will answer for her fidelity. She might have betrayed me into the hands of her savage countrymen, but she has been true.” Walter soon found Zeemit. She was waiting for him in the verandah of the bungalow. She had brought with her some powder for staining the skin, and a native dress--that of a religious mendicant. “With this disguise,” she said, “you may penetrate into any part of India, free from molestation. This staff, carried by none but religious pilgrims, will be a passport of safety.” “This idea is excellent,” he answered; “but there is one great difficulty which seems to me to be insurmountable. I have but a very slight knowledge of the language of the country, and this will betray me.” “Yes, it would, if you let it be known.” “But how am I to avoid letting it be known?” “You must be dumb.” “Dumb?” “Yes, loss of speech and hearing must be the afflictions under which you suffer. This will ensure you sympathy. I shall be your aged mother conducting you to our sacred shrines. So long as your disguise is not penetrated, no one will dare to offer us harm.” “This arrangement is capital, Zeemit, and no reward will be too great for you to demand if my mission is successful.” The powder was made into a paste, and with the assistance of Mehal, Gordon proceeded to stain the skin until it appeared of the dark copper colour peculiar to the Bengalees. His black hair and eyes were favourable to the disguise, and when he had donned the native cloth, and fastened on a pair of sandals, it would have been a keen penetration indeed that would have recognised the Englishman in the garb of the Hindoo pilgrim. To test the completeness of his disguise, he presented himself before Mrs. Harper, who immediately asked him in Hindoostanee what he meant by intruding on her privacy. And not until he spoke did she recognise him. “This is a splendid device,” she said, when Walter had made known the old woman’s plan; “and if you are discreet you may yet save poor Flora. Let me see Zeemit and personally thank her.” When the old ayah entered, Mrs. Harper took her hand and kissed her. “You are a faithful creature, Zeemit, and my brave countryman shall reward you amply.” “I need no reward, mem-sahib; I wish only to rescue missy, whom I love. For has she not always been good and kind to poor old Zeemit? And Zeemit is grateful, and will save her if she can.” Mrs. Harper shook the woman’s hands heartily. “There is no time to lose,” she said, addressing Gordon. “May Heaven watch over you. We shall never meet again. I feel sure of that, for I am so very, very ill. But if you see my husband, tell him that the last words the lips of his poor wife uttered were his name, and a prayer for his safety and happiness.”