Two of the Ranee's body-guard, dressed in gaudy but ragged clothes, were strolling down the road, their swords clanking behind them. Hoosanee had been right in his surmise. Their master, the Nawab, had pointed Tom out to them the previous evening as a person to be suspected, and they had come out with the object of spying his movements. Had they heard him speak to the English child in English, his fate would have probably been sealed, for these men, who had served in British armies, knew the sound of an English voice. But Hoosanee's watchfulness had, for the moment, forestalled theirs. When they came up, Tom, who looked all the Oriental, was mounted and giving directions in Hindustani to Aglaia's servants. With reverent salaams the men passed on, and Hoosanee whispered to his sister that she should take the child away. 'Sahib, it is for their sakes,' he explained hurriedly to his master. 'We should draw suspicion upon them. The _budmashes_ respect nothing. They only wait for an opportunity to do wickedness.' Aglaia was resisting the efforts of her ayah to draw her away. Her sweet violet eyes were full of tears, she could not understand the change in her friend Tom, or why he should look at her so solemnly, when she was so glad to see him. 'Won't you come?' she sobbed. 'I want you to see my dada.' 'Yes, yes,' said Tom low and hoarsely. 'Go home and I will come some day. Perhaps when you want me the most.' 'I want you now,' said Aglaia. 'Missy come away; come quick!' urged the poor little ayah whom Hoosanee's frantic signs were goading into desperation. 'The sun it is coming and mem sahib she scold poor Sumbaten.' 'Go on dear,' said Tom, lingering and feeling half disposed to follow her, while Hoosanee was writhing over his young master's folly and at his own inability to make him do what was wise, and then Snow-queen, the wisest of them all, as Subdul Khan said later, settled the question for them. She was impatient of standing, and Tom touched her inadvertently, and all in a moment she bounded away. She was seen darting like a flash of light across the Maidan and into the wilderness beyond. It was a wonderful sight, so said the few Europeans who witnessed it, marvelling at the daring and perfect horsemanship of a native. Later it was said that there was something uncanny in the business, for the beautiful white horse and its rider, though looked for diligently by one or two, were not seen again in Jhansi. When Aglaia had finished her usual prayer that evening, she stopped. 'Mother,' she said, 'may I say something from myself?' 'Certainly you may, darling,' said Mrs. White. Then Aglaia shut her eyes up tightly and clasped her hands. 'Oh! God!' she said. 'Thank you for sending Tom. Please may he come back soon!' After that she lay down contentedly. 'I was going to cry,' she said. 'But I won't now. He's sure to come, isn't he, mother?'