Wyatt related the night’s experience to Hulton and the doctor over breakfast the next morning, and then the matter dropped, for there was plenty to think about and do.

The Rajah had to be consulted about the forming of a couple of well-drilled regiments of cavalry, as suggested by the general, and for whose disciplining the two sergeants were on their way.

He took to the idea eagerly, and suggested that a beginning should be made at once; and as the days went on the officers found that they had volunteers enough for four regiments of well-mounted men; but there was a difficulty in the way, for every one wanted to ride in the front rank, and resented being called upon to ride behind his fellows.

But this was got over, and the drilling went on.

Dick was busy enough, and now he spent a good deal of spare time at the palace with the Rajah, who would have had him twice as much if his duties would have allowed it.

“I don’t mean to let you go too often, Dick,” said Wyatt. “The Rajah’s all right, but I’ve noticed some rather doubtful looks being cast at his favourite.”

“Meaning me?” said Dick.

“Meaning you. It’s wonderful what a lot he thinks of you, poor fellow.”

“Poor fellow?”

“Yes—so weak and ignorant. He doesn’t know you as I do.”

“No,” said Dick dryly.

“I’m getting horribly jealous.”

“You look it,” said Dick frankly.

It was a week after the alarm, and, though there was not the slightest trace to be found outside the old palace walls, a couple of sentries were placed on duty on the roof every night, while for further safety an extra sentry was stationed at the gates.

The whole of the officers now took the precaution of having loaded pistols within reach, and a certain amount of nervousness, a feeling of insecurity, slightly marred their sleep. But after six nights without being disturbed, they began to grow more careless, and to feel that such an adventure was not likely to occur again.

Being now much better, Hulton accepted an invitation from the Rajah for him and the doctor to dine at the palace, where, for the first time, Dick had the pleasure of seeing the queen-mother—a great favour, to be duly appreciated.

The young officer was ushered into the queen’s apartments by the Rajah himself, and found her a handsome, graceful, stately lady of forty, who spoke fair English and received him with grave dignity, if she felt the condescension she was showing to the youth whom her son delighted to honour, by offering him her hand to kiss, examining his countenance searchingly the while.

She was not alone, for Dick’s friend, the elderly Brahmin, was standing by, ready to greet him with a smile; while a bevy of her highness’s ladies stood back, closely veiled, and all in simple white silk costumes, affording a strange contrast to their mistress, who was literally ablaze with diamonds, emeralds, and rubies.

The interview was short, and the Rajah led his young English friend back to where the others were waiting.

“I want my mother to know more of what the English are, Darrell,” he said. “I want her to like you, and as she comes to know you better, I feel that her bitter prejudices will soften down, and she will begin to like others.”

He referred to this again and again in the course of the evening, and spoke apologetically to Hulton and the doctor about the matter.

“You see,” he said, “that it is a matter of time, and it was the utmost that my mother would concede at first. After a time I hope she will often meet you, too, as her friends.”

The visit was short on account of the invalids, but it was made very pleasant by the Rajah’s courteous attentions; and on his return to quarters, and having a chat with Wyatt, telling him all the proceedings of the evening, and describing in particular his audience with the Ranee, Dick was in the highest of spirits, giving it as his opinion that the enmity was dying out fast.

“I believe the Brahmin councillor and the old Wazir mean to be the best of friends now.”

“Do you?” said Wyatt dryly.

“Yes, and you don’t. But wait a bit. The Rajah will be asking you again soon, and then you’ll see how differently they’ll behave.”

“You seem to have been drinking of the Rajah’s wine of forgetfulness, my son,” said Wyatt, “and when the wine’s in the wit’s out.”

“Oh, is it?” said Dick. “Well, I must have a very small amount of wit, then, for one little glass of that sweet sugar-and-watery stuff to have driven it out. It’s all light, I tell you; and the Wazir asked me how soon the drill-officers, as he called them, would be here.”

“And you couldn’t tell him,” said Wyatt.

“I said very soon.”

“Then, now, let’s go to bed.”

“What a hurry you’re in!”

“Yes, my son. While you were feasting your eyes on the Ranee’s jewels, and kissing her hand before feasting in a more worldly way with the Rajah, I was slaving like a nigger, and I want to sleep.”

“Yes, it does seem too bad to be going out like this and leaving you at work. I thought about you ever so many times.”

“Did you?” said Wyatt, smiling and looking less grim.

“I did, and wished you were there.”

“That’s right, old fellow. There, good-night; I want a long snooze.”

“Good-night,” said Dick in an injured tone. “You always do want to go to sleep when I want to talk.”

“Do I?” said Wyatt, laughing. “Well, perhaps so. A sleep will do you good, though.”

He went to his own room, and Dick undressed and was soon lying thinking.

“Phew! how hot it is!” he said to himself. “I’d give anything for a breath of fresh air. The place is like an oven.”

But the understanding was that the windows were to be kept shut, and he had no wish for such another encounter as he had gone through before; so he lay still, going over the incidents of the evening, thinking of the Ranee and the wonderful jewels she wore, and of how young she looked to be the Rajah’s mother.

“I don’t quite like her way,” he said to himself. “It was just as if she spoke civilly to me to please her son, and twice over there seemed to be a look in her eyes as if she was jealous of his being so friendly to me. But, phew! how hot it is! I must have some fresh air.”

Then, taking into consideration that he was not at all drowsy, and that it would be impossible to sleep in that torrid atmosphere, he slipped out of bed and softly opened the window, breathed in the comparatively cool air for a few minutes, and then lay down again, meaning to get up after a time and close the window when the atmosphere of his chamber had grown cooler.

The natural consequence occurred. The soft night air stole in, bringing to him a delightful state of calm and restfulness, under whose action the weary, feverish symptoms passed off, and before many minutes had gone by he was sleeping deeply, a sleep full of the keenest enjoyment, though how long he did not know: but conscience interfered and cut the repose short, making him start up guiltily in full consciousness of having done something wrong. Springing off his bed, he went to the window, stood listening for a few minutes, and gazing up at the peaceful sky, before carefully closing and fastening the casement.

“I wonder how long I’ve been asleep,” he said to himself—“not a minute, I’ll be bound;” and, stretching himself out, he sighed, closed his eyes, and went right off again, but only to start up in alarm the next moment, as he thought.

“All right, Dick, lad; don’t be scared.”

“Oh, it’s you,” he said. “You shouldn’t do that, Wyatt; it’s startling in the dark, and I might have snatched up a pistol and fired.”

“Yes, you’d better!” said Wyatt, laughing softly. “I should like to catch you at it. Why didn’t you answer, then, when I knocked?”

“Did you knock?”

“Of course—over and over again. You do sleep.”

“What’s the matter? Aren’t you well!”

“Oh, yes, I believe so; but I woke up suddenly. Haven’t heard or seen anything, have you?”

“No,” said Dick; and he felt guilty again, feeling sure that his brother-officer had heard him close the window.

“Then it must have been a dream. Guilty conscience needs no accuser.”

“Eh? What do you mean?”

“I’ll make confession, old fellow,” said Wyatt. “It was so awfully hot in my room that I couldn’t bear it any longer, and I got up and opened the window, meaning to leave it for a few minutes while I lay down till the room was cooler—for I couldn’t, have gone to sleep like that, tired as I was; and then I went off fast asleep.”

“Oh!” ejaculated Dick.

“There, don’t ‘Oh!’ at a fellow. It was wrong, of course, and I oughtn’t to have done it, for I might have been sure that I should go to sleep. But guilty conscience set me dreaming, and I dreamed that I was seeing exactly what you saw that night.”

“Wyatt!”

“Yes; it was all as real as could be, only there was no lightning. But I seemed to dimly make out a nigger’s legs kicking about at the top of the window, and then getting to the side and coming down till he glided over the sill on to the floor. Then I seemed to hear the sitting-room door open, and heard him go through.”

“How strange!” said Dick.

“Yes; just a repetition of your bit of experience, lad.”

“But didn’t you jump out of bed and follow?”

“Don’t I tell you I was asleep? Of course it wasn’t real. The peculiar state of mind I was in, from going off instead of keeping awake to shut the window when the room grew cool, set me dreaming it all, I suppose; and, after what seemed to be a very long time, made me wake up in a tremendous perspiration and spring off the bed to fasten the window.”

“It’s very queer,” said Dick. “Now, do you know, I—”

“Yes, you told me,” said Wyatt, interrupting him hastily; “only that isn’t all. I went back and sat on the edge of the charpoy, feeling regularly puzzled. I was still half asleep, and there seemed to be no doubt about my having dreamed it all, but I couldn’t settle it all in my mind, and before lying down I felt obliged to go across the room and see if the door was shut.”

“Yes,” said Dick eagerly; “and of course it was?”

“No,” said Wyatt; “it was open.”

“You left it open when you went to bed for coolness.”

“I could swear I did not,” said Wyatt. “It stuck a little, warped by the heat, and I remember perfectly lifting it to get it close.”

Dick was silent.

“Now tell me this,” continued Wyatt. “Was the sitting-room window shut when we went to bed?”

“Yes: I’m sure of that,” said Dick, “because I went and looked out, and longed to leave it open.”

“You shut it?”

“You saw me do it when we came to bed.”

“I did. Well, I found it wide open.”

“Ah!” cried Dick excitedly, “then it was not a dream. You saw it all in your sleep. He came in at your window and went out by the sitting-room, and the tulwar has gone.”

“No,” said Wyatt slowly: “the tulwar hangs where we put it, quite safe. I thought that, and went to see before I woke you.”

“How strange! Then it must have been a dream after all. One minute. Is there any explanation of it? Could it have been the servants?”

“No; they are both fast asleep.”

“Then what can it mean?” said Dick.

“I don’t know, unless you’ve been walking in your sleep and opened the windows.”

Bang!

The sentry at the gate had fired his carbine.

Bang! and then bang! The alarm was taken up by the sentries on the roof, and the two officers seized their weapons and, clad only, as they were, in their silken pyjamas, ran down into the yard. The guard had turned out, and all was hurry and excitement, for that soul-stirring cry which sends a thrill through the stoutest when raised in the dead of night brought Dick’s heart to his mouth.

For the cry was, “Fire, fire!” and Wyatt exclaimed hoarsely, “Quick, my lads—quick! the magazine!”