Over the wall the drab trunk of an elephant protruded, and something white fluttered into the garden.
Winnie rose.

The head of the native girl came up instinctively; but as Winnie leisurely strolled toward the palace, the head sank again.
Winnie turned and wandered along the walls, apparently examining the flowers and vines, but all the while moving nearer and nearer to the bit of white paper which the idle breeze stirred back and forth tentatively.

When she reached the spot she stooped and plucked some flowers, gathering up the paper as she did so.

And still in the stooping posture, she read the note, crumpled it and stuffed it into a hole in the wall.
Poor child! Every move had been watched as a cobra watches its prey.
She was to pretend illness at once.

Plans had been changed.