"Huzoor, a slave this day was purchased by Durga Ram, Umballa, so-called.

She has skin the color of old tusks, and eyes like turquoise, and lips like the flame of the jungle, and hair like the sands of Ganges, mother of rivers." Bruce was upon his feet, alive, eager.

He caught the Brahmin by the arm.
"Is this woman white ?" harshly.
"Huzoor, the women of Allaha are always dark of hair." "And was sold as a slave ?" "To Durga Ram, the king without a crown, Huzoor.

It is worth a thousand rupees," smiling.
"Tell me," said Bruce, stilling the tremor in his voice, "tell me, did she follow him without a struggle ?" "Yes.

But would a struggle have done any good ?" Bruce took out his wallet and counted out a thousand rupees in Bank of India notes.