"Well, Prince," Elizabeth said, "I suppose you know the women of this
land better than either Captain Barlow or myself, and you're probably
right, for I see in a belt at her waist the jewelled hilt of a dagger."

Nana Sahib laughed: "My dear Miss Hodson, I never play with edged
tools, and Captain--"

But Nana Sahib's raillery was cut short by a small turmoil as the
bleating goat of sacrifice was dragged forward to a stone daubed with
vermillion upon which rested a small black alabaster image of Kali;
while a _guru_, with sharpened knife, hung near like a falcon over a
quivering bird. Three times the goat's head was thrust downward in
obeisance to the black goddess; there was a flash of steel in the
sunlight, and hot blood gushed forth, to dye with its crimson flood the
base of the idol.

A Bagree darted forward and with a stroke of his _tulwar_ clipped the
neck from a pitcher and held it beneath the gurgling flood till it was
filled.

From where Elizabeth sat she looked across the shoulder of Nana Sahib
as they watched the sacrifice; she saw him quiver and lean forward, his
shoulders tip as though he would spring from the brake. His face had
drawn into hard lines, his lips were set tight in intensity across the
teeth so that they showed between in a thin line of white. The blood
seemed to have fascinated him; he was oblivious of her presence. She
heard him murmur, "Parvati, Parvati! There is blood, blood--wait,
thou, Parvati."

The bay Arabs--perhaps their sensitive nostrils drank in the smell of