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Wylie, I. A. R. (Ida Alexa Ross), 1885-1959

"The Native Born or, the Rajah's People"


With fumbling, trembling fingers he drew a plain gold ring from his
pocket and thrust it into the Colonel's hand.
"Look at that!" he whispered. "Look at the inscription."
Carmichael turned to the feeble light. No one spoke or moved. They
watched him and waited with a reasonless, breathless suspense.
"My God!" he whispered, "How did you come by this?"
Travers drew himself upright. The shadows of death were banished in
that last moment; his voice was clear and steady as he answered.
"Listen," he said. "I will tell you--and then act before it is too
late!"


CHAPTER XI
IN THE HOUR OF NEED

Nehal Singh pulled aside the curtains over the window and stepped out
on to the balcony. The air in the great silent room behind him stifled
him, and even the night breeze, as it touched his cheeks, seemed to
burn with fever. He stood there motionless, his arms folded, gazing
fixedly into the half-darkness. A pale, watery moonlight cast an
unearthly shimmer over the shadowy world before him, brightened every
here and there by the will-o'-the-wisp fire points which marked the
presence of the camped thousands waiting silently for his word. Only
one spot--it seemed like a black stain--remained in absolute gloom,
and it was thither the Rajah's eyes were turned. Every night he had
come to the same place to watch it. Every night he had tortured
himself with the thought of all it contained.


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