“After we have had the feats of magic,” Brood was saying, “Miss Desmond will read to you, ladies and gentlemen, that chapter of our journal——”
“My word!” groaned both of the middle-aged gentlemen, looking at their watches.
“Relating to——”
“You'll have to excuse me, Brood, really, you know. Important engagement up-town——”
“Sit down, Cruger,” exclaimed Hodder. “The lady won't miss you.”
“Relating to our first encounter with the great and only Ranjab,” pursued Brood oracularly. “We found him in a little village far up in the mountains. He was under the sentence of death for murder. By the way, Yvonne, the kris you have in your hand is the very weapon the good fellow used in the commission of his crime. He was in prison and was to die within a fortnight after our arrival in the town. I heard of his unhappy plight and all that had led up to it. His case interested me tremendously. One night, a week before the proposed execution, my friends and I stormed the little prison and rescued him. We were just getting over the cholera and needed excitement. That was fifteen years ago. He has been my trusted body-servant ever since. I am sure you will be interested in what I have written about that thrilling adventure.”
Yvonne had dropped the ugly knife upon the table as if it were a thing that scorched her fingers.
“Did he—really kill a man?” whispered Miss Janey with horror in her eyes.
“He killed a woman. His wife, Miss Janey. She had been faithless, you see. He cut her heart out. And now, Ranjab, are you ready?”
The Hindu salaamed.