She smiled—a smile that might have been a promise or a threat—and hurried away with the Great Magician.
Trent moved off behind his guide. Once more they traveled the silent, ghostly streets where only snarling curs were astir. The Tibetan uttered never a word—not even when he left. At Trent's house he helped the Englishman over the wall, then slunk toward the mouth of the lane.
The muleteers were asleep in the quadrangle, but Trent's footsteps aroused them. He instructed Hsiao to make a fire. Kee Meng, who lay upon a yak-hair robe by the main entrance, told him he had been sleeping well, that there was little pain and he could stand without ill effects.
As Trent dried his clothing by the fire, scenes of the past few hours conjured themselves in the darkness beyond the flames. Three things he had learned; three things he had yet to learn. He knew where the jewels were hidden; knew that Sarojini Nanjee and Hsien Sgam were not allied (although her connection with the Mongol puzzled him); knew the woman could tell him something about the murder of Manlove (for she was in Gaya the night he was killed). But the mystery of Chavigny was yet unsolved, as was the mystery of Manlove's death and the mystery of Dana Charteris' disappearance. He did not altogether trust Sarojini; the incident of the rug (flame to the memory) was a hint of some purpose of her own. Furthermore, her plan was too simple to be convincing.... And how much there was to be accomplished before eleven o'clock! He had one remaining card to play. And he would not wait for Hsien Sgam to send for him; he would seek him out, force his hand.
With this purpose established in his mind, he instructed the muleteers to call him three hours after sunrise and went to his room. He was weary—body and soul.
When he fell asleep, dawn was beginning to bleed the veins of the East.
CHAPTER XIII
FALCON'S NEST
It seemed to Trent that he had scarcely closed his eyes before a touch awakened him. Sunlight floated through the window in a cloud of gold, and Hsiao, the muleteer, stood beside his cot. When he rose he felt stiff and empty of vitality; the vampire of utter exhaustion had drained him while he slept. A groove was worn into his brain, a groove into which all thoughts fell unresistingly.