He mounted the camel behind the driver, and for the next few minutes all
his questions and perplexities vanished from his mind. He simply clung to
the waist of the driver. For the camel bumped down into steep ditches and
scuffled up out of them, climbed over mounds and slid down the further
side of them, and all the while Thresk had the sensation of being poised
uncertainly in the air as high as a church-steeple. Suddenly however the
lights of the camp grew large and the camel padded silently in between
the tents. It was halted some twenty yards from a great marquee. Another
servant robed in white with a scarlet sash about his waist received
Thresk from the camel-driver.

He spoke a few words in Hindustani, but Thresk shook his head. Then the
man moved towards the marquee and Thresk followed him. He was conscious
of a curious excitement, and only when he caught his breath was he aware
that his heart was beating fast. As they neared the tent he heard voices
within. They grew louder as he reached it--one was a man's, loud,
wrathful, the other was a woman's. It was not raised but it had a ring in
it of defiance. The words Thresk could not hear, but he knew the woman's
voice. The servant raised the flap of the tent.

"Huzoor, the Sahib is here," he said, and at once both the voices were
stilled. As Thresk stood in the doorway both the man and the woman
turned. The man, with a little confusion in his manner, came quickly
towards him. Over his shoulder Thresk saw Stella Ballantyne staring at
him, as if he had risen from the grave. Then, as he took Ballantyne's
extended hand, Stella swiftly raised her hand to her throat with a
curious gesture and turned away. It seemed as if now that she was sure
that Thresk stood there before her, a living presence, she had something
to hide from him.