Within a minute the newcomer was admitted. It was Ungud, who had run the gauntlet of the enemy's pickets and who now triumphantly produced Havelock's letter to "Larrence-sahib Bahadur." Alas, Henry Lawrence was dead, but Brigadier Inglis, who succeeded him in the command, now learnt that Havelock had defeated Nana Sahib, occupied Cawnpore, and was advancing to the relief of Lucknow. How the great news buzzed through the Residency! How men grasped each other's hands in glee and exultation and sought leave to take the joyful tidings to the hospital and the women's quarters! Mayne aroused Winifred to tell her. "Perhaps Malcolm was able to get through to Allahabad," he said. "When you come to think of the difficulties in the way of our troops--this man says they have fought three if not four pitched battles between Fattehpore and Cawnpore--we have been unreasonable in looking for help so soon." "Mr. Malcolm would surely succeed if it were possible. He understands the native character so well and is so proficient in their language, that he was the best man who could be chosen for such a task." And that was all that Winifred would say about "Mr. Malcolm," who would have been the most miserable and the most astonished person in India that night had he known how bitter was the girl's heart against him. Though Winifred was not to blame, for the necklace and the pass offered strong evidence of double-dealing on her lover's part, her unjust suspicions were doomed to receive a severe shock. In the morning she heard that Captain Fulton wished to see her. She left her quarters by a covered way and waited outside the Begum Kotee until a soldier found Fulton. He came, bringing with him a native. "This is the man who arrived from Cawnpore last night, Miss Mayne," he said. "He has a letter for you, but he refuses to deliver it to any one but yourself. I fancy," added the gallant engineer officer with a smile, "that the sender impressed on him the importance of its reaching the right hands." Winifred caught a glimpse of Frank's handwriting. Her face grew scarlet. For one delightful instant she forgot the harsh thoughts she had harbored against him. Then the scourge of memory tortured her. Fulton's kindly assumption that Malcolm was her fiancé must be dispelled and she bit her lower lip in vexation at the tell-tale rush of color that had mantled her cheeks when Ungud discharged his trust and gave her the letter. "It is from Captain Malcolm," she said coldly. "I suppose he wishes his personal belongings to be safeguarded. I am surprised he did not write to my uncle rather than to me." Fulton was surprised, but he laughed lightly.