"I have no master, Sahib!"
"Very well. We will see how you feel about it to-morrow."
Shortly two men appeared and led the protesting Guru Singh below—but not before Tambusami had rescued his turban-cloth.
"It is defiled," he said, looking at it regretfully and letting it drop over the rail.
"Come with me," directed Trent. "I'll take a look at your cut."
It was only a flesh wound Trent ascertained when they were in his state-room, and after bathing it in a sterilizing solution and binding it with an adhesive strip, he dismissed Tambusami with a brief commendation for his prowess.
"It is nothing, O Presence," declared the native, magnanimously. "With a lord who deals in magic medicines, why should not I watch over him, as a keeper over his cheetah?"
And the Englishman was not quite certain that Tambusami didn't wink as he went out.
Subconsciously, Trent had been thinking all the while of the coral pendant; now it filled his mind. Again he felt the chill anticipation. His hand shook as he jerked aside the pillow; shook, as he stared in blank stupefaction.
The oval was not there.