"Father, I will not go without you, and you know it! My place is with
you, and I have quite made up my mind. If you stay, I stay! My
presence here has saved your life a hundred times over. No, I don't
mean just when you were ill; I mean that they dare not lay a finger on
me! They know that a nation which respects their women would strike
hard and swiftly to avenge a woman of its own! If I were to go away
and leave you they would poison you or stab you within a day, and then
hold a mock trial and hang some innocent or other to blind the British
Government. I would be a murderess if I left you here alone! Come!
Come away!"

He shook his head. "It was wrong of me to ever bring you here," he
said sadly. "But I did not know--I would never have believed." Then
wrath took hold of him--the awful, cold anger of the Puritan that
hates evil as a concrete thing, to be ripped apart with steel. "God's
wrath shall burst on Howrah!" he declared. "Sodom and Gomorrah were no
worse! Remember what befell them!"

"Remember Lot!" said Rosemary. "Come away!"

"Lot stayed on to the last, and tried to warn them! I will warn the
Resident! Here, give me my writing things--where are they?"

He pushed her aside, none too gently, for the fire of a Covenanter's
anger was blazing in his eyes.

"There are forty thousand British soldiers standing still, and wrong--
black, shameful wrong--is being done! For a matter of gold--for
fear of the cost in filthy lucre--they refrain from hurling