“There is some strange and evil influence that sets my plans at naught.”

“The gods, if there be gods as you Brahmins say, protect him.  I think evil will come to us if we harm him.  And can we?  Did he not lie down with the hooded death itself, a cobra, young, active, full of venom, and rise unhurt?”

“True.  But perhaps the snake had escaped from the bed before the Feringhi entered it,” said the Dewan meditatively.

“To guard against that, did they not fasten the karait in his shoe?”

“He may have discovered it in time,” said the engineer.  “Englishmen fear snakes greatly and always look out for them.”

“Ha! and did he not eat and drink the poisoned meal prepared for him by our skilfullest physician?”

There was no answer to this.  The mystery of Dermot’s escape from death was beyond their understanding.

“There is certainly something strange about him,” said Chunerbutty.  “At least, so it is reported in our district, though to me he seems a fool.  But there all races and castes fear him.  Curious tales are told of him.  Some say that Gunesh, the Elephant-headed One, protects him.  Others hold that he is Gunesh himself.  Can it be so?”

The Dewan smiled.

“Since when hast thou believed in the gods again?” he asked.

“Well, it is hard to know what is true or false.  If there be no gods, perhaps there are devils.  My Christian friends are more impressed by the latter.”

The Rajah shook his head doubtfully.

“Perhaps he is a devil.  Who knows?  They told me that he summoned a host of devils in the form of elephants to slay my soldiers.  Pah! it is all nonsense.  There are no such things.”

With startling distinctness the shrill trumpeting of an elephant rang through the room.

“Mother Kali preserve me!” shrieked the superstitious Rajah, flinging himself in terror on his face.  “That was no mortal elephant.  Was it Gunesh that spoke?” He lifted his head timidly.  “It is a warning.  Spare the Feringhi.  Let him go.”

“Spare him?  Knowest thou, O Maharaj, that the girl thou dost desire loves him?  But an hour ago I heard her tell him that she wished to speak with him alone,” said Chunerbutty.

“Alone with him?  The shameless one!  Curses on him!  Let him die,” cried the jealous Rajah, his fright forgotten.

The Dewan smiled.

“There was no need to fear the cry of that elephant,” he said.  “It was your favourite, Shiva-ji.  He is seized with the male-madness.  They have penned him in the stone-walled enclosure yonder.  He killed his mahout this morning.”

“Killed Ebrahim?  Curse him!  If he had not cost me twenty thousand rupees I would have him shot,” growled the Rajah savagely.  “Killed Ebrahim, my best mahout?  Why could he not have slain this accursed Feringhi if he had the blood-lust on him?”