Produced by Al Haines THE PLAGUE OF THE HEART BY FRANCIS PREVOST AUTHOR OF "FALSE DAWN" "BUST OF GOLD" "ON THE VERGE" "ENTANGLEMENTS" ETC ETC LONDON WARD, LOCK & CO LIMITED NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE 1902 TO APRIL Contents THE SIEGE OF SAR HER REPUTATION THE MEASURE OF A MAN The Siege of Sar I "Have you heard, Captain Terrington?" cried the girl gaily. "There's to be a Durbar after all! So you were wrong. It's to be in the Palace too, that you were so set against, and Lewis and Mr. Langford are going with Sir Colvin, and just the littlest guard of honour for the look of the thing. Sir Colvin says the great thing with these sort of people is to show you're not afraid, and I'm _perfectly certain_ he's right." She sat upon the table, all in white; her hat slung upon her arm, her feet swinging to and fro amid the muslin fulness of her skirt, pointing her remarks with the tips of their gilded slippers. The man who had just entered the bungalow in khaki riding kit stood a straight six feet. His face, strong and silent, was as brown as his jacket, and his spare figure had an air of tempered energy. The only break in its entire brownness was the faded strip of ribands on his left breast. At the sight of Mrs. Chantry he had checked the stride with which he entered, lifted his helmet, and pushed back from his forehead its damp brown lock of hair. As he stood staring at her with a frown, she set her wrists on the edge of the table, and rocked her body gently in time with her feet. "Well!" she exclaimed with a laugh as he stopped before her; "what did I tell you? I said if you'd only leave Sar for a week I'd get the Durbar, and I've got it in three days!" She ceased her swinging, and looked up at him with an excited triumph in her eyes. "Well?" she repeated provocatively, leaning back and putting the tip of a tiny tongue between her lips. He drew a wicker chair from the wall and threw himself into it with a sigh. "I only hope it isn't true," he said. She leaned forward over the table, gripping its edge, her face thrust out, like a figure on a ship's prow. "Honest Injun!" she cried, sparkling. "Every word. Durbar to-morrow. Khan's guard and tom-toms round at eleven, and off we march at noon. Oh! don't you wish you were going?" "Not at all," he said drily. "I've never wished to die like a trapped mouse." She drew herself up resentfully. "How dare you say that," she cried; "when you know Lewis will be there!" "All right," he said, too tired to argue; "I'll try to see its good points. How did this happen?" She was a flouting pouting bird again at once. "I did it," she declared. "Oh, did you," he replied without conviction. "When?" "The moment you started foraging. You're the only man in Sar who doesn't care a da---- a fig for what I think, so I had to wait till you were gone. The others!" She gave a shrug to her pretty shoulders. "Well?" enquired Terrington.