“Well, never mind that,” I said. “He knows no better. I trust he was more frightened than hurt.”
“Yes, my lord; but those are ugly wounds.”
“Yes,” I said. “But what would the rajah say at your having people so near?”
“His highness may not know. He would be angry if he knew that the fakir was here. But if he does know—well, it was fate.”
“Will he come to-day?”
“Thy servant knoweth not. It would be better that he stayed till the holy man has gone his way.”
Chapter Thirty Eight.
The rajah did not come that day, nor the next, and it troubled me sadly, for it made me feel that he thought he was sure of me, and the more I led that solitary life, and satisfied myself that I was most carefully watched, the more I dreaded my firmness.