Q.I ask nothing more, and am now prepared to fully confide in you.As you doubtless know, Rama Ragobah left Bombay for New York about eleven weeks ago.He went, I have been told, on an errand of revenge.Six weeks ago John Darrow was murdered.He left behind him a written statement describing his wooing of Lona Scindia and his experiences with Rama Ragobah.He asserted, furthermore, his belief that he would die by Ragobah's hand, - the hand which twice before had attempted his life.Even as he loved your cousin, so he hated her husband, and, confident that he would ultimately be killed by him, he was haunted by the fear that he would escape the just penalty for his crime.He bound his heir by the most solemn of promises to use, in the event of his murder, every possible means to bring the assassin to justice.There can, of course, be little doubt that the assassin and Rama Ragobah are one and the same person.The last request John Darrow ever made - it was after he had been attacked by the assassin - had for its object the punishment of his murderer.Were your cousin living, do you think she would be deaf to that entreaty?
A.No.She would make its fulfilment the one object of her life, and, acting in her stead, I shall do all in my power to see justice done.If I canrender you any aid in that direction you may command me, Sahib.
Q.You can assist me by telling me all you know of your cousin's married life, and, more especially, the message she confided to you.
A.In doing this I shall break the letter of my oath, but, were I not to do it, I should break the spirit thereof, therefore listen:
You have, I suppose, already learned from the statement of Darrow Sahib what occurred at his last meeting with my cousin on Malabar Hill.Her act, in throwing a venomous serpent in his face, was one which doubtless led him to believe she wished to kill him, although it must have puzzled him to assign any reason for such a desire.Not long after this incident my cousin married Ragobah, a man for whom she had always cherished an ill-concealed hatred.I saw but little of her at this time, yet, for all that, I could not but observe that she was greatly changed.But one solution suggested itself to me, and that was that she had discovered her lover false to her and had, out of spite as it is called, hastily married Ragobah.I confess that when this conclusion forced itself home upon me, I felt much dissatisfied with Lona, for I thought such a course unworthy of her.As I saw more of her I noted still greater changes in her character.As I had known her from childhood, she had been most uniform in her temper and her conduct; now all this was changed.To- day, perhaps, she would be like her old self, -=20 only weaker and more fragile, - to-morrow a new being entirely, stronger and more restless, with a demoniac light in her eyes, and a sort of feverish malignancy dominating her whole personality.When I noticed this I studied to avoid her.If the Lona I had known were merely an ideal of which no actual prototype existed, I wished to be allowed to cherish that ideal rather than to have it cruelly shattered to make room for the real Lona.I had not seen her for many weeks when one day, to my surprise, I received a note from her.It was short, and so impressed me that I can remember every word of it.
"My DEAR COUSIN:
"I send this note to you by Kandia that you may get it before it is too late for you to do what I wish.I am a caged bird in my husband's house.My every movement is watched, and they would not let you come to me were my husband at home, so, I beseech you, come at once lest he shouldreturn before I have had time to intrust to you my last request.I am dying, Moro, and it is within your power to say whether my spirit shall rest in peace, or be torn forever and ever by the fangs of a horrible regret.My secret is as lead upon my soul and to you only can I tell it.Come - come at once!
"LONA."
You can imagine the effect of this revelation upon me better than I can describe it.I did not even know she was seriously ill, and with her urgent request for an interview came the sad tidings that she was dying, and the confirmation of my fear - that she had adopted the religion of her English lover.I lost no time in going to her.I found her in a state of feverish expectation, fearful lest I should either not be able to come at all, or her husband would return before my arrival.She was worn to a shadow of her former self, and I realised with a pang that she was indeed dying.
"I knew I could depend upon you, Moro," she said as I entered, "even though you think I have lost all claim upon your regard.I said to myself, 'He will come because of the respect he once had for me,' and I was right.Yes," she continued, noticing my astonishment at the change in her condition, "I am almost gone.I should not have lasted so long, were it not that I could not die till I had spoken.Now I shall be free to go, and the horrible struggle will be over.You have been much among the English, Moro, both here and in England, and know they believe they will meet again in heaven those they have loved on earth."She sank back exhausted from excitement and effort, as she said this, and I feared for a moment she would be unable to proceed.I told her what I knew about the Christian's hope of heaven, and suggested to her that, as her husband might return at any moment, she had best confide to me at once any trust with which she wished to charge me.For a moment she made no reply, but said at length:
