You have done the British Raj a great
service."
"No, Sahib." The girl drew herself erect, so that her eyes gazed into
Barlow's, They were luminous with an intensity of resolve. "Let Bootea
speak what is in her heart, and be not offended; it is necessary.
There is, at the end of the journey the place that is called _jahannam_
(hell) for Bootea. The Nana Sahib waits like a tiger crouched by a
pool at night for the coming of a stag to drink."
"The Resident will protect you against the Mahratta," Barlow declared.
"Bootea could do that," and in her small hand there gleamed in the
moonlight the sheen of her dagger blade. She thrust it back into her
belt.
"What then do you fear, Gulab?" he queried.
"The Sahib."
"_Me_, Gulab?"
"Yes, Khudawand. To see you and not be permitted to hear your voice,
nor feel your hand upon my face, would be worse than sacrifice. Bootea
would rather die, slip off into death with the goodness, the sweetness
of to-night upon her soul. There, where the Sahib would be, Bootea's
heart would be full of evil, the evil of craving for him.
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