“Ah, yes, I have just come,” she said. “I heard that you both fought very hard, like the brave, strong Englishmen you are, and some of the men were hurt, and badly too.”
“Chumbley there did his best,” said Hilton, “of course; but by whose orders was this done? You can tell me, I hope.”
“Yes,” drawled Chumbley, drily, “the Princess can tell you, I should say.”
“Yes,” said the Princess, smiling from one to the other. “You were brought here to this my hunting-home in the jungle by my orders, but no violence was to be used.”
“By your orders!” cried Hilton, dropping her hand as if it had burned him, and falling back a step, with the anger flashing from his eyes.
“The Princess tells you it is her hunting-box,” drawled Chumbley, drily; “she evidently meant to give us a surprise.”
“Be silent, Chumbley,” said Hilton, indignantly.
“Her highness was afraid that we might not get leave of absence, or that we should decline to come,” continued Chumbley.
“Oh, this is too much!” cried Hilton.
“Do not be angry,” said the Princess, speaking in a low, sweet tone, full of pleading tenderness. “I know it seems strange to you English people, but our ways are different to yours.”