Jehân's face sharpened with anger. He had come there in an evil temper, because, after having virtuously denied himself an over-night orgy for the sake of steadying his hand for the match, Lateefa--on whom he had relied for a superexcellent new kite--had neither turned up nor sent an excuse; consequently the chances of victory were small. And now this ill-conditioned hound was palpably insolent. The fact roused Jehân's pretensions, and made him assert them.
'I fly no kite to-day,' he said haughtily, 'the match will be to-morrow.'
His opponent smiled. 'As my lord chooses!' he replied coolly, 'his slave is ready to give revenge at any time.'
'Revenge!' echoed Jehân sharply, 'wherefore revenge? There is no defeat.'
'His Highness forgets,' said the other, with a pretence of humility scarcely hiding his malice, 'the Most Learned, being member of race-clubs, must know that "scratch" is victory to the antagonist. This day's match therefore is mine. Is not that the rule, meean?'
He appealed to the most sporting member of the court, but Jehân, without waiting for his verdict, broke into fierce invective, and had passed from the rules to the rulers, when Burkut--who had been listening with that sinister look of his--touched him peremptorily on the arm, and said--
'Have a care, Nawâb-sahib, some one comes.'
Jehân turned quickly, and saw behind him a sergeant of police.
He came with a summons for the Nawâb-sahib Jehân Aziz to attend at once at the cantonment police-station.
Still confused by his anger, and scarcely master of himself, Jehân stood looking at the paper put in his hand, and trying to disentangle from the smudge of the lithographed form the few written words which would give him a key to the rest.