As she spoke Abdul rose and closed the ledger before him with a bang. Mrs. Chandos also rose, and with her foot turned back a rug in the middle of the room; under this was revealed a trap door, which she proceeded to unlock, whilst Abdul Buk lifted the heavy lid. Below was a small space, wherein were boxes and account books.
"Surely this is a great convenience," she said. "Here, in the old days of the factory, they too kept money and books."
The bag of knotted twine and the big account book were laid within, the trap door was closed, the rug replaced.
"I may not come here again for some time," said Abdul Buk. "Salwey spends half a week at Manora; I cannot understand what brings him here, unless he what you call 'smells a rat.'"
"Bah!" exclaimed Mrs. Chandos, with great scorn.
"Here I am ill at ease. Now, in my quarters in the cantonment bazaar, I feel all right. There I can do business, and take measures."
"Truly, yes," assented Mrs. Chandos, "'every dog is a lion in his own lane.' Your peons, and the little deaf writer, how fare they?"
"They are at your service. Behold! they are well chosen. They know neither pity nor fear. Thou art a woman with a strong mind."
"I am," she answered complacently, "and it is the mind that maketh the body rich! Meet me in two weeks' time, by chance, at the railway station—I will name the hour and day—and there we will confer about the loans on the wheat crop."
Mrs. Chandos, as she spoke, turned down the lamp, and went out, locking the door of the office, while Abdul Buk stole round the corner of the bungalow and along the road to where his phaeton was waiting, and drove away.