And that is the whole story, as Yasmini told it to me in the wonderful old palace at Buhl, years afterward, when Utirupa was dead, and the English Government had sent her into forced seclusion for a while—­to repent of her manifold political sins, as they thought—­and to start new enterprises as it happened.  She had not seen Theresa Blaine again, she told me, although they always corresponded; and she assured me over and over again, calling the painted figures of the old gods on the walls to witness, that but for Theresa Blaine’s companionship and affection at the right moment, she would never have had the courage to do what she did, even though the guns of the gods were there to help her.

The End