In the station, also, there was no one to explain what had happened. The _baboo_, who might have told what he knew, had, in that interval of suspense, discreetly fled to his lodgings in the city, where he was trying to concoct _alibis_. It was only on the bathing-steps that anything definite was known, and there a curious consternation had followed immediately on the rapid raid made by those two through the temple. For, when the brief tumult of resistance had passed with their passage, the only trace of it that remained was fateful, beyond words, to the superstitious eyes which saw it. Swâmi Viseshwar Nâth, the high priest of Shiv-_jee_, lay with crushed skull on _Mai_ Kâli's very lap! His blood was pouring out upon her altar; yet, despite the blow which all had seen, despite the crash which all had heard, not one of her many widespread arms was injured! Here was a miracle indeed! For what had been her words on that golden paper which she had flung, in defiance as it were, into the temple of her rival? '_Yea! though they smite me, there shall be Blood upon Mine Altar_.' And there was. The blood of the arch-detractor of Her Supremacy. A miracle indeed! to be affirmed or denied to the exclusion of all other thoughts. And so, on those wide steps leading down to the river, the newcomers, hastening thither at vague rumours of strange doings--stranger even than fixed bayonets at the city gates--were caught in the conflict of opinions and held captive by the question-- 'Would _Mai_ Kâli stay the plague now, as She had promised to do when there was blood upon Her altars, or would She not?' In other words, dare men--mere men--take the remedy into their own hands, and risk offending the Great Goddess by lack of faith? Would it not be better to wait a bit and see what happened? So, coming and going on the steps--coming in fierce haste, going in awestruck doubt--men asked themselves if their part was to wait and watch. But, inside the temple, two poor souls crouched in a corner knew what their part as women must be; and therefore, after a time of fruitless waiting, they stole out hand-in-hand and went back to the city, back to their empty house, realising but one thing: that the stray sheep which had been lost and found, had gone astray once more; had defied the priests, perhaps killed his _guru_. And they had left that house empty with such joy, believing they were to bring their dear one back to it! And now, to whom were they to go for advice; for weddings and burials--since such things must be--if Viseshwar Nâth was dead? Viseshwar who had known all things concerning the family? So they wept, not knowing that his death made future happiness for one of them possible.