"Oh, I don't mean that," said the Colonel, frowning still more. "But who the dickens is going to decide as to the merits of the ladies' costumes? Not I—and not my wife! It's too big a responsibility—that."
Sir Reginald laughed. "That is a serious consideration, certainly. I should make them decide themselves. Vote by ballot. That ought to satisfy everyone."
The Colonel turned to the waiting orderly. "Very well. Tell the messenger to come in!" He made a sign to Noel, who had just ceased to dance, that brought the young man to his side.
"Look here, Wyndham! You organized this show, so you may as well take on this job. The Rajah has sent a prize for the lady wearing the best costume."
Noel frowned also at the news. "Confound him! What for, sir?"
"Oh, I suppose he wants to make himself popular," said the Colonel, still mightily contemptuous. "We can't refuse it anyway. Arrange for the ladies to vote by ballot, will you? They will probably all vote for themselves," he added to Sir Reginald. "But that's a detail. And I say, Noel, get a table from somewhere, will you? It's your show, not mine."
Noel smiled upon his commanding-officer, an impudent, affectionate smile. He and Badgers were close allies. "Very good, sir, I'll see to it," he said, and departed.
Under his directions a table was brought in and placed at the end of the room. The dancing was stopped temporarily, and the dancers lined up against the walls. Noel, armed with a sheaf of note-paper went the round, tearing off slips and distributing them as he went.
While this was in progress, the Rajah's messenger was admitted and conducted to the table behind which stood Sir Reginald with Olga and Colonel Bradlaw. He was a very magnificent person, turbaned and glittering; he bore himself like the servant of an emperor. In his hands he carried with extreme care an ivory casket, exquisitely carved, with a lock of wrought Indian gold. The key, also of gold, lay on the top of the casket.
The gift was plainly a costly one, and every eye in the room followed it.