rain. She had never imagined anything like it.

It was in the dark of the early morning that she began at last to near
her destination. A ten-mile drive through the jungle awaited her, she
knew. She wondered if Monck had made provision for this or if all
arrangements would be left in Peter's capable hands. She had never felt
more thankful for this trusty servant of hers than now with the
loneliness and darkness of this unfamiliar world hedging her round. She
felt almost as one in a hostile country, and even the thought of Tommy
and his need could not dispel the impression.

The train rattled into the little iron-built station of Khanmulla. The
rainfall seemed to increase as they stopped. It was like the beating of
rods upon the station-roof. There came the usual hubbub of discordant
cries, but in foreign voices and in a foreign tongue.

Stella gathered her property together in readiness for Peter. Then she
turned, somewhat stiff after her long journey, and found the door
already swinging open and a man's broad shoulders blocking the opening.

"How do you do?" said Monck.

She started at the sound of his voice. His face was in the shadow, but
in a moment his features, dark and dominant, flashed to her memory. She
bent to him swiftly, with outstretched hand.

"How good of you to meet me! How is Tommy?"

He held her hand for an instant, and she was aware of a sharp tingling
throughout her being, as though by means of that strong grasp he had