"Ay," assented Abdul Buk, "and you must have laks by now."
He paused and looked at her reflectively; then he said:
"Why do you not spend it instead of hoarding? Why not enjoy the money before"—he paused, then he added—"you are found out."
"Cha-a-h! I will never be found out!" she answered shrilly. "I love handling money; it is in my blood. I get it from Lopez, my father. He left me no fortune, with all his once great riches."
"Of a truth his riches did him no good; he died a ruined man."
"But he left me a legacy," rejoined Mrs. Chandos; "his books, his accounts, the names of his clients and his methods. I found them all in an old box, when my mother came to live with me. They have been of value."
"Take my advice and wind up now," urged Abdul Buk. "I feel a presentiment of evil. Lo! I see a little cloud, like a man's hand, as it says in your book which I have read. I fear Salwey—some day he will discover all; he is working, working, working. You will have your veil torn off, and be known through the province as the accursed Saloo, whilst I may be cast into prison. Anyway, I lose my honour."
"Abdul Buk, you are a coward; you ought to be the old woman, I, the man."
"So you say," he exclaimed with sullen scorn.
"What of Hirzat Sing?"