wealth of thick, black hair, fine as silk, upon the third finger of the left hand blazed a large solitaire. The woman’s face was turned toward the wall—but Thandar knew that he could not be mistaken—it was Nadara.
From the rafter upon which he squatted to the floor below was not over twelve or fifteen feet. Thandar swung downward, clinging to the rafter with his hands, and dropped, cat-like, upon his naked feet to the floor below.
The almost noiseless descent was sufficient, however, to awaken the sleeper. With the quickness of a panther she swung around and was upon her feet facing the man almost at the instant he alighted. The moonlight was now full upon her face. Thandar rushed forward to take her in his arms.
“Nadara!” he whispered. “Thank God!”
The girl shrank back. She recognized the yoice and the figure; bu —her Thandar was dead! How could it be that he had returned from death? She was frightened.
The man saw the evident terror of her action, and paused.
“What is the matter, Nadara?” he asked. “Don’t you know me? Don’t you know Thandar?”
“Thandar is dead,” she whispered.
The man laughed. In a few words he explained
