“Well?”
“Four thousand. The stones were sapphires.”
“Where was this?” asked Campian quickly. “Anywhere near here?”
“No. Out the other side of Peshawur. You seem keen on the subject, old chap! You haven’t got hold of a notion there’s anything to be done in that line around here, eh?”
“Hardly. This sort of country doesn’t grow precious stones, I guess, except precious big ones.”
“Where’s Bracebrydge?” queried Upward, on their return to camp two hours later.
“He isn’t back yet,” replied Nesta, with a very mischievous laugh.
“What? Why, he left us more than a couple of hours ago. What can have become of the chap? He ought to have been back long before us.”
“He was back, but he started off again,” said Mrs Upward. “This time he went the other way”—whereat both Nesta and Fleming laughed immoderately.
“I think he started to hunt us up, didn’t he, Mrs Upward?” spluttered the latter.