that no one ever used, by evening. There Abdul would come to him with
his _bhoja-oont_[31] bringing the usual supplies, and on receipt of
them he would dismiss Abdul altogether and disappear again into the
desert, this time for good. Criminal lunatics and homicidal maniacs
are better dead, especially when they are tempted beyond their
strength to marry innocent, beautiful girls who do not understand the
position.




CHAPTER XIV.

THE SNAKE AND THE SWORD.


The dak-bungalow again at last! But how terribly dreary, depressing,
and horrible it looked _now_--the hut that had once seemed a kind of
heaven on earth to the starving wanderer. Then, Lucille was thousands
of miles away (geographically, and millions of miles away in
imagination). Now, she was but thirty miles away--and it was almost
more than human endurance could bear.... Should he turn back even now,
ride straight to Kot Ghazi, fall at her feet and say: "I can struggle
no longer. Come back to Monksmead--and let what will be, be. I have no
more courage."

And go mad, one day, and kill her? Keep sane, and sully her fair name?
On to the hovel. Rest for the night, and, at dawn, strike into the
desert and there let what will be, be.