“This,” said the Rajah fiercely, and with his face full of the anger and disgust he felt: “my mother came to me quite early this morning to make her complaint of the treatment she had received.”
Wyatt was watching him searchingly.
“She has found that her ivory cabinet has been opened, and the whole of her diamonds, emeralds, pearls, and rubies are gone. You know the beautiful jewels she had.”
“Yes,” said Wyatt, “I know. They were magnificent, queenly. Well, sir?”
“Well,” said the Rajah, looking at him wonderingly, “my mother, the Ranee, tells me that Mr Darrell was seen to go to her rooms yesterday, and now he has fled.”
“Oh, I see,” cried Wyatt scornfully; “you mean that my brother-officer, a gentleman—an English gentleman—enjoying your hospitality, trusted by you in every way, has behaved like one of the vilest budmashes of the bazaar.”
“What else can I believe after my mother’s words?” cried the Rajah angrily.
“Bah!” raged out Wyatt; “I’d answer for him with my life. Rajah, shame on you! How can you be such a child?”
There was a roar at this, but the Rajah held up his hand, and turned to Wyatt.
“Then where is he?” he cried. “Why is he not here to answer to this charge?”