"Ever since I saw it I've
had before my eyes the dreadful sight of the poor lad lying on the ground
covered with blood and apparently lifeless. Well, to go on. I called the
other servants, but no one came. The Bhuttias tied my hands and tried to
lift me on to my pony's back, but Kitty got frightened and bolted. Then
they didn't seem to know what to do, and one went to a man who had remained
at a distance from us and spoke to him. He apparently told them to fetch a
chair from the bungalow and put me into it. I tried to struggle, but I was
powerless in their grasp. I was fastened to the chair, poles were tied to
it, and at a sign from the man who stood alone--he seemed to be the
leader--I was lifted up and carried off."
"Did you notice anything about this man--the leader?" asked Dermot.
"Yes, he was not like the others in face. He didn't seem to me to be a
Bhuttia at all. He was one of the two that you shot--the man with shoes. It
seems absurd, but do you know, his face appeared rather familiar to me
somehow. But of course I could never have seen him before."
"Are you sure that you hadn't? Think hard," said Dermot eagerly.
The girl shook her head.
"It's no use. I puzzled over the likeness most of the time that I was in
their hands, but I couldn't place him."
Dermot looked disappointed.
The girl continued:
"We went through the forest for hours without stopping, except to change
the bearers of my chair.
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