“Bahut atcha, Rama.  I will come with you.  Give me my topi,” cried Dermot, feeling light-hearted all at once.  Perhaps the misunderstanding between Noreen and him would be cleared up now.  He took his sun-hat from the man and followed him out of the room.

* * * * *

Noreen was greatly perplexed about the insult, as she considered it, of the Rajah’s offer of the necklace.  She feared to tell her brother, who might be angry with her for suspecting his friend of condoning an impertinence to her.  Equally she felt that she could not confide in Ida or any one else, lest she should be misjudged and thought to have encouraged the engineer and his patron.  To whom could she turn, sure of not being misunderstood?  If only Dermot had remained her friend!

She was torn with longings to know the truth about his relations with Ida.  The uncertainty was unbearable.  That morning in her room she had boldly attacked Ida and asked her frankly.  The other woman made light of the whole affair, pretended that Noreen had misunderstood her on that night in Darjeeling, and laughed at the idea of any one imagining that she had ever been in love with Dermot.

The girl was more puzzled than ever.  Her heart ached for an hour or two alone with her one-time friend of the forest.  O to be out with him on Badshah in the silent jungle, no matter what dangers encircled them!  Perhaps there the cloud between them would vanish.  But could she not speak to him here in the Palace?  He seemed to be no longer fascinated with Ida, if indeed he ever had been.  She could tell him of the Rajah’s insult.  He would advise her what to do, for she was sure that he would not misjudge her.  And perhaps—­who knew?—­her confiding in him might break down the wall that separated them.  She forgot that it had been built by her own resentment and anger, and that she had eluded his attempts to approach her.  Even now she felt that she could not speak to him before others.

Growing desperate, she had that morning snatched at the opportunity to ask him for an interview.  Chunerbutty, who seemed always to cling to her now with the persistence of a leech, had as usual been with her, but his attention had been distracted from her for a moment.  She hoped that the Hindu had not overheard her.  Yet what did it matter if he had?  Dermot had understood and nodded, as he passed on with the old, friendly look in his eyes.  Perhaps all would come right.

She had seen him leave the lounge after lunch, but she remained there confident that he would return.  She felt she could not talk to the others so she withdrew to a table near one of the shuttered windows and pretended to read the newspapers on it.

Payne was there, deep in the perusal of an article in an English journal on the disturbed state of India.  Mrs. Rice, impervious to snubs, was trying to impress the openly bored Ida with accounts of the gay and fashionable life of Balham.  The men were scattered about the room in groups, some discussing in low tones the occurrences of the day before at the Moti Mahal, others talking of the illuminations and fireworks which were to wind up their entertainment in Lalpuri on this the last night of their stay.  For all were leaving on the morrow.