The car of the god Juggernaut was visible, but what lay in its path could not be seen.
Umballa was not popular that night.

But this was a private affair.
Well he knew the ingenuity and resources of his enemies at large.
There would be no rescue this night.

Kathlyn Mem-sahib should die; this time he determined to put fear into the hearts of the others.
Having drunk his king's peg, he was well fortified against any personal qualms.

The passion he had had for Kathlyn was dead, dead as he wanted her to be.
Whom the gods destroy they first make mad; and Umballa was mad.
The palanquin waited in vain outside the wall of the garden of brides--waited till a ripple of the news eddied about the conveyance in the shape of a greatly agitated Lal Singh.
"He is really going to kill her!" he panted.

"He lured her to her sister's side, then captured her.