Of the interview that followed no record remains. Tom could not be prevailed upon to speak of it. It is not so much as mentioned in his diary. Hoosanee, whose confidence in his master was perfect, neither understood nor sought to understand what was going on. Fearing treachery, however, he held himself on the alert, and when, after having poured herself out in a torrent of impassioned words, Vivien, for the figure could have been none other, rushed out into the darkness, he was by his master's side in a moment. To his dismay he found him weak and trembling. Twice, it seemed to him, that he was trying to speak, but he said nothing. Then Hoosanee told him that the night was passing, and urged him to lose no time in setting forth upon their task. The friendly Watchman was outside. He had won over all those who were watching with him. If they did not at once seize their opportunity, it would pass out of their hands for ever. But if his master's manner had dismayed him, he was still more alarmed by the way in which his advice was taken. For an instant Tom made as if he would follow him, and then he sat down and burst into a passion of tears. Hoosanee was in an agony. What had happened? 'Is Missy Grace dead?' he whispered, going quite close to his master. 'No, no; I hope to God she is alive still,' said Tom. 'And if I knew that the Jezebel who has just gone was speaking the truth, I should not be like this. I should know, at least, what to attempt. But how am I to tell? She may be lying to me as she lied to her husband, as she is lying every day to Dost Ali Khan.' 'What has she told my master?' asked Hoosanee. 'She says that they were here, and that they have gone. She heard I was coming and she put them out. She had made up her mind that we should not meet. Curses--a thousand curses--on her head!' 'Why did she tell my master this?' said Hoosanee. 'She did not tell me at first. It came out. That is why I think it may be true. She was enraged that I would not do what she wished, and then she threw it in my teeth. If I believed her, and escaped as I might do, and if I found out afterwards that she had lied to me--or if, on the other hand, I remained here while they were going through danger and hardship outside--oh! Hoosanee--my brother, advise me! What shall I do?' 'Listen, my master,' said the good fellow, who, while his master had been speaking, had taken his own measure of the situation. 'You will stay here for an hour. Yes. I beseech you, do as I say! It will be best. Alone no one will suspect me. I will join my friend, the chowkedar, and go with him on his rounds. I will hear the last news of the place. If the prisoners are still here, or if they have been put out, as the White Ranee says, will soon be known to me. When I know, I will return to my master, and he will decide what we had best do.'