"The fortune-teller? Have you seen her?"
Towton put his hand to his neck with a wry smile. "Yes, the jade. She nearly had me strangled."
Vernon dropped his cigar. "Strangled!"
"Yes." The Colonel unloosened the white silk scarf he wore round his throat and leaned forward to show a fading black mark round it. "You see! I assure you I have scarcely been able to swallow since I saw you last. That damned Hindoo nearly did for me."
"Hindoo! Did a Hindoo attempt to kill you?"
"Rather, and jolly nearly succeeded."
"But why?"
"Because I wished to tear off the false face worn by Diabella: a waxen or papier-mache sort of face, which makes her look like an Egyptian, so as to be in keeping with her room, I suppose."
"Why did you wish to tear it off?"
"Because she--well, she said certain things, and----" Towton stopped as Vernon rose quickly and began to walk about the room. "What's up, now?"