of a second class compartment, laughing and talking gaily. They
were, with one exception, all richly dressed and each of them wore a
quantity of jewels. The exception was a capable, good-looking woman,
of about twenty-five. Her short hair, neck and arms bare of jewellery,
and plain white saree, proclaimed her a widow. But like the others
she chatted merrily, and a listener would have learned from their
conversation that they had been attending a wedding, and were now
on their way home. Witty remarks about the guests, criticism of the
looks of the bride, and comparisons of this wedding with others,
passed from one to another, and whiled away the hours of the journey
as the train sped onwards.

Night fell, and the ladies became silent. They rested against each
other and dozed at intervals. The widow sat on a trunk at the end of
the carriage and silently told her beads. The train slowed down and
stopped at a little station. Then the bell clanged and once again
they were on their way. The little station had not been left far
behind when a dark figure appeared on the foot-board of the ladies'
carriage, and a man's head was thrust in at one of the windows. A
startled exclamation from one of the party drew the attention of all
to the intruder, who was pulling himself up into the carriage. He
was very fierce-looking, wore a huge turban, and had a bushy black
beard. In one hand he held a knife and with the other he assisted
himself into the compartment, in spite of the ladies' protestations.

Some of them began to cry but one or two bolder spirits ventured to
argue with him. In answer to their questions and objections, he said
roughly: "It is a long while before you will reach another station. I
have come for your jewels. If you give them to me quietly, I will
not hurt any of you; but if not--" and he looked very expressively