Leonie wrinkled her forehead at the last sentence, and looking up caught Jan Cuxson's eyes upon her.
"That sounds so familiar," she said perplexedly, "I——"
"The tiger at the Zoo which we knew all those years ago was trapped near a ruined Hindu temple in the Sunderbunds, Lady Hickle," he said quietly, watching the curious dilation of the pupils in the greenish eyes as he spoke.
"The very one!" broke in young Dean, as he suspiciously eyed a proffered curry.
"How did you come to think of the stunt?"
"I ran up against a perfectly top-hole native prince at polo last month. Amongst other things we started talking elephant and bagh—tiger, you know," laughed the lad, who always seemed to be on the point of bursting with high infectious spirits. "No, take it away, I will not eat a cold chupattie of the consistency of a bicycle tyre—as I was saying, we talked tiger, and somehow or other he suggested a few days' pursuit, through the Sunderbunds, of the spotted deer, muntjak or sambur——"
"Neither."
"Well, they're spotted."
"Dogs, perhaps."
Ignoring the execrable repartee, the boy turned completely round to
Leonie.