"The Blue Stone of Ghan," he whispered hoarsely. "By Allah, she is wearing the sacred jewel!"
CHAPTER XVI.
DIPLOMACY.
As the Shan stood there watching the graceful, unconscious form of Mrs. Benstein, a great rage seized him. In one moment his thin veneer of Western civilisation had vanished. He was Baserk, savage, hard and cruel, from his glittering eyes and long fingers that crooked as if on the woman's throat. He swayed against Denvers with the passion that thrilled him.
"Close in on her," he hissed. "Drag the jewel away. If you steal behind her and hold her by the throat——" He could say no more for the present. There was safety and freedom close to his hand, and only a frail woman between himself and his desires.
"Oh, rubbish!" Harold said coolly. "My good sir, you will kindly forget that you are the Shan of Koordstan for a moment, and recollect that you are a guest here. I can give a pretty shrewd guess how the stone came here—indeed, I should have been disappointed had I not seen it. Benstein is old and feeble, and he dotes on his wife. But there is a better way than yours. Can I trust you?"
The Shan nodded. He was recovering himself slowly.
"Then stay here, but do not be seen. Miss Lyne will be back presently, and she is on our side. Ah, here she comes. I have a few words to say to her."
Angela came up at the same moment, her eyes shining blue interrogation points. Harold drew her aside a little way and rapidly whispered a few words in her ear.
"Questions presently," he smiled. "We have only time for action now. Ask Mrs. Benstein to remain where she is, and say you will be back in a moment. Meanwhile, I must get you to present me to Lord Rashburn, the Foreign Secretary. Can you manage this?"