perhaps not return.

"All these long years of my watch thrown away! For, never a single
one of the sacred jewels has he shown me! They have never seen the
light since the awful day in Humayoon's Tomb. Has he the jewels?
Does he hide them? Has he buried them? Has he sent them away? If
he has them, then he dies the death of a dog. The jewels of a king
to be the spoil of a low tax-gatherer! The King of Kings.

"But why does he not go? I have watched him for years.

"There is some reason! Hawke Sahib shall tell me all! He must tell!
He needs my help!" The old man's slumbers were haunted with the
olden memories of a day of doom, the day when the bodies of the
sacred Princes of Oude lay naked in the glaring sun as they were
despoiled after Hodson's pistol had done its bloody work. "They may
have taken them all from him, these English are greedy spoilers,"
muttered the crafty old man, as his head fell upon the silken cushions
with a curse. He was a rebel still, as rank as Tantia Topee.

In the splendid marble palace of Hugh Johnstone, the startled Justine
Delande was awake long before the dawn, thinking only of the meeting
of the morning, her bosom heaving with its first questionable
secret, but Major Alan Hawke smiled as he leisurely breakfasted
later, reading a telegram just received. "On my way. Will come to
private address. Send servants to Allahabad to join me. Silence
and discretion.--Lausanne."