'My dear Rose,' expostulated Gwen, aside; 'don't for pity's sake ask that creature. What would your father say if he knew? You may mix yourself up----'
'Whose picture is it, I ask?' repeated Rose, unheeding. Then in the silence of Chândni's smile, and Gwen's frown, she turned passionately to the portrait itself. 'Why don't you speak and shame them? You look as if you could tell the truth, and if he made you so, it was true!' The very vehemence of her own fanciful appeal imposed on her, and she paused as if waiting a reply. It came with a laugh from Chândni.
'She was another of the little sahib's friends. The miss saith true. There are three of them here. Which will give back the pearls and save him?'
'Save him from what?' cried Rose, disregarding Gwen's appeals for her to leave the mad woman to the servants. 'What has Keene sahib done that you can dare to threaten?'
The girl's bitter contempt roused all Chândni's savageness. After all she was the mistress, and this girl, despite her courage, in her power too; and what is more she should learn it.
'From what? from the shame which comes to the sahib-logue when their pretence of honesty is found out--from the shame of having friends--the shame of taking jewels for those friends--the shame of being untrue to salt--Ask the mem how 'tis done, she knows--the shame of sending the key of the sluice-gate so that the water----'
Her voice had risen with each sentence; now it ended in a gasp and a gurgle.
'Open the door, please,' said Rose to Mrs. Boynton, who gasped also in the intense surprise of the girl's swift action. 'Don't struggle, fool!' she went on in the same hard tone, only the dead whiteness of her face and a catch as she drew breath telling of the wild passion surging in her veins. 'I won't choke you if you hold your tongue.'
Once before Chândni had felt a girl's grip on her throat; a hot, straining grip. This was neither. It was the grip of a strong healthy hand made vigorous by constant use. Those fierce fights over bat and ball with the dead lad had had their share in the sheer muscle of her defence of him, before which Chândni's large softness gave way, leaving her not even a slandering tongue.
'Put the veil over her face, please! I won't even have it known who dared to come here!' continued the girl, forcing the woman backwards step by step till they reached the door. Then she pushed her from it magnificently. 'Now go! and tell what lies you like elsewhere.'