"Or else lacking in the courage to meet me," Kalamita rejoined, fastening the clasp of an armlet.
"Nay," Bandhor declared, with the respect of the soldier for one of his own profession who had beaten him twice. "He lacks not courage, by Bel, or the ability to look even on thy beauty unmoved, as you should be aware."
"Say you so?" Kalamita whirled, stung by his reference to Croft's refusal of her favor on a past occasion, and brought her hand into stinging contact with his ear.
Bandhor sprang up, wagging his head, to tower above her.
"You devil—you yellow-eyed devil!" he roared with guttural laughter. "No doubt you are angered, and with justice. To have sent Koryphu—the brother of one who fell on his sword for love of thee—his messenger to you. That were a master move."
Kalamita regarded his amusement out of narrowed amber eyes.
"Laugh, fool, an' it pleases you," she said at last, coldly. "A master move indeed What lies behind it?"
Bandhor frowned. His attention seemed arrested by the question.
"By Bel I know not," he stammered. "Save to learn your price of ransom without walking into the trap you laid, and thereafter to lay a counter proposal before you."
"Counter proposal?" And now Kalamita sneered. "Such things require time, Bandhor. This one seems in small haste to regain a wife and child."