"Why?"—a shade too artlessly.
"Servants have eyes to see and ears to hear."
Something in her tone caused him to wonder if she had penetrated under Kerth's masquerade. All the while he was subconsciously thinking of the mate to the oval in his pocket.
"What harm in taking him to Bombay?" he pursued, conscious that he was losing ground.
Again he could have taken oath that he saw the shadow of a smile in her eyes.
"To Bombay?" she repeated thoughtfully. "No"—slowly—"no, I see no objection. I concede that." But he did not like the manner in which she said it.
"Conditionally, however," she added. "He must leave to-night. When he reaches Bombay let him reserve a room for you at the Taj Mahal—and wait."
Trent was discreet enough to accept her terms without question. His eyes returned to Kerth. He saw him stir slightly, heard a sigh leave his lips. The woman, too, saw and heard.
"He is awakening," she observed. "I shall summon Chandra Lal to guide you back to your hotel."
Again she clapped her hands; again the servant appeared. She spoke to him swiftly, not in English nor Hindustani, but in a tongue Trent did not understand, and the man vanished with a salaam.