"There was a woman," he said. "But I don't think she was thoughtless. I don't see how she could have known that there was any danger in her friendliness. For she was merely friendly to Shere Ali. I know her myself."
The answer was given frankly and simply. For once Ralston was outwitted.
Dick Linforth had Violet Oliver to defend, and the defence was well done.
Ralston was left without a suspicion that Linforth had any reason beyond
the mere truth of the facts to spur him to defend her.
"Yes, that's the mistake," said Ralston. "The woman's friendly and means no more than she says or looks. But these fellows don't understand such friendship. Shere Ali is here dreaming of a woman he knows he can never marry—because of his race. And so he's ready to run amuck. That's what it comes to."
He turned away from the city as he spoke and took a step or two towards the flight of stone stairs which led down from the tower.
"Where is Shere Ali now?" Linforth asked, and Ralston stopped and came back again.
"I don't know," he said. "But I shall know, and very soon. There may be a letter waiting for me at home. You see, when there's trouble brewing over there behind the hills, and I want to discover to what height it has grown and how high it's likely to grow, I select one of my police, a Pathan, of course, and I send him to find out."
"You send him over the Malakand," said Linforth, with a glance towards the great hill-barrier. He was to be astonished by the answer Ralston gave.
"No. On the contrary, I send him south. I send him to Ajmere, in
Rajputana."
"In Ajmere?" cried Linforth.
"Yes. There is a great Mohammedan shrine. Pilgrims go there from all parts, but mostly from beyond the frontier. I get my fingers on the pulse of the frontier in Ajmere more surely than I should if I sent spies up into the hills. I have a man there now. But that's not all. There's a great feast in Ajmere this week. And I think I shall find out from there where Shere Ali is and what he's doing. As soon as I do find out, I want you to go to him."