And now, roused by that pistol-shot also, another old man, who had carefully hidden himself away from the possibility of being found by Roshan Khân, on the rage for an impossible interview; who had counted, with malicious cunning, on the cooling effect of a useless waiting in the garden till dawn should make it necessary for hot-blooded lovers to return to the Fort, stole like a thief to the balcony. What could have happened? The only likely trouble which had occurred to his vast experience had been the possibility of Roshan Khân seeking the interview upstairs. And for that very reason had not he, Akbar Khân, felt it his duty to sleep outside his mistress's door? What more could faithful servitude be expected to do? But this! What was this? His charge had stolen a march upon him. Old as he was in the care of frail womanhood, he had been imposed upon! Then, as he crept round a pillar craftily, the sight of Pidar Narâyan, in his priestly robes, made the old sinner throw up his hands and grovel in the dust. "This slave knew nothing!" he mumbled, gasping. "This was unknown. And for the other, I told him it was too soon, too soon,--far too soon." Too soon, and too late! What did it all mean? Father Ninian stood helpless, paralyzed; but Vincent caught at the words. "The other!" he echoed. "You black devil! who was the other? Who was that man? Curse him!" He paused, for Laila opened her eyes. "It was Roshan Khân," she said, with a smile, that half-amused, half-mysterious smile. "He gave me the dress, you know, and I think he wanted me--to marry him. Hush! what's the use of being angry--now?" She checked his incredulous outcry, and her hand hesitated up to his trembling fingers, and held them back from their task. "Don't," she went on; "I'd rather--you didn't waste time. I want you to look at me--only me--me, myself. Ah! that's nice!" There was an instant's silence; then her eyes wandered to his cuff as it rested on her corselet, and she smiled again. "We match, don't we? I'm glad. Besides, it won't stain much. I expect--that's why soldiers wear red, isn't it?" The deadly realism roused Vincent to a sort of fury at his own helplessness. But what could a man do, caught in a second by Fate to be chief actor in a scene like this, where he was lost,--lost utterly? And those two fools looking on--doing nothing! "At least, in common charity, you might help. You're something of a doctor!" he cried passionately. "We can settle scores afterwards, you and I, can't we? But now you might help _her_." "What did she say?" asked Father Ninian, tonelessly. He had caught a word or two, and their triviality, in the face of what had happened--a triviality common in those who have been struck down as she had been, almost painlessly--had but increased his bewilderment. "What does it mean? How do you come here? I must know, first."