Lucilla looked, and shuddered, although she tried not to.
“I need not say,” the Raja began, but broke off to count the gong-beats that came again, then went on with a slight good-humored shrug of contempt (it was only a girl) “need not say I am far from sharing the popular illusion. Your arrival is of course the merest coincidence—for me, a charming coincidence. But my people hold unphilosophical views. I understand—and indeed I observed—that even in England the vulgar are apt to see the Finger of Providence in particularly fortunate—or unfortunate—occurrences.”
“Then,” Crespin muttered impatiently, “the upshot of all this palaver is that you propose to hold us as hostages, to exchange for your brothers?”
“That is not precisely the idea, my dear sir.” The Raja spoke with great courtesy—almost exaggerated. “My theologians do not hold that an exchange is what the Goddess decrees. Nor, to be quite frank, would it altogether suit my book.”
“Not to get your brothers back again?” Lucilla exclaimed incredulously.
“You may have noted in history, Madam,” he replied with a smile, “that family affection is seldom the strong point of princes. Is it not Pope who remarks on their lack of enthusiasm for a ‘brother near the throne’? My sons are mere children, and, were I to die—we are all mortal—there might be trouble about the succession. In our family uncles seldom love nephews.”
“So you would raise no finger to save your brothers?” the Englishwoman asked him in horror.
“That is not my only reason,” Rukh said with a smile. “Supposing it possible that I could bully the Government of India into giving up my relatives, do you think it would sit calmly down under the humiliation? No, no, dear lady. It might wait a few years to find some decent pretext, but assuredly we should have a punitive expedition. It would cost thousands of lives and millions of money, but what would that matter? Prestige would be restored, and I should end my days in a maisonette at Monte Carlo. It wouldn’t suit me at all. Hitherto I have escaped the notice of your Government by a policy of masterly inactivity, and I propose to adhere to that policy.”
“Then,” Crespin broke in, “I don’t see how—”
And Traherne, speaking at the same time, said, “Surely you don’t mean—”