She wore a pith helmet with a veil. The veil was lifted, but as he approached, she lowered it—curiously enough, he thought. He was certain she had come from his compound; therefore, when she was within a few yards, he drew rein.
"Your pardon...." as he lifted his helmet. "Do you wish to see me? I'm Major Trent."
She halted, resting one hand upon a tree-trunk. He caught the glint of a bracelet on her white arm, and, being a man to notice details, observed a design worked in heavy relief upon it—a design that, in the half-tone of the early night, was almost indistinguishable.
"No," came the answer from under the veil, in a voice with a soft, thrilling timbre. "No."
He was still studying the bracelet out of the corner of his eye, and he perceived that the intricate workmanship represented a king-cobra; its hood was lifted in bizarre relief.... A barbaric ornament for a white woman to wear, he thought.
"But, really," he persisted, "it isn't quite safe for you to go along this road. Beasts, you know."
A pause. He saw the dark pools of her eyes upon him.
"Thank you," she murmured. "I thought I was going to the dâk bungalow."
With that she turned and moved away in the direction of the metalled main highway.
"Now, that's queer," he observed to himself, staring after her. "Anybody with even bad sight could see that this road...." Certainly she was at the compound gate. Why had she falsified?