The Raja bowed his approval, and turned away in another direction. She wondered that he did not wait to welcome Antony and Traherne—it would have been princelier, she thought, since he had so bidden their coming, so pressed his hospitality upon them—but it was relief that he showed no intention of dancing unwelcome attendance upon her. That was something. She shivered a little, and quietly followed the native woman.
Crespin looked quickly about for his wife when at last his bearers put down his chair, and he lumbered out of it. She was nowhere to be seen.
But Watkins came forward.
“Madam is resting, sir,” he said, “until dinner.”
“I’ll go to her, then,” Major Crespin ordered.
Watkins bowed, and spoke to one of the servants waiting behind him.
“He knows no Henglish, sir,” Watkins said regretfully, “but he hunderstands gestures somethink surprising, and he knows a few words of the French tongue, hif you’ll be so good has to pronounce ’em slow, and one at a toime.”
Crespin nodded curtly, saw Traherne leaving his chair, hesitated an instant, and then motioned the man of a little French to show him the way. He’d find Lu, or he’d pull the bally old show down, he said to himself, and he meant it. No sense in making a fuss, or a mess, till he had to, till the right time came; but when it did he’d make the damnedest mess the Eastern hemisphere’d seen yet. So, he threw Traherne a nod, and followed the white-clad native.
Dr. Traherne searched the great entrance hall, looking for Mrs. Crespin beyond her husband. She was not in sight, nor was the Raja. Well, probably Antony Crespin knew where his wife was, had spoken to and was following her—the hall wound just beyond the stairs. He hoped it was so, intensely. And he checked an impulse to call Crespin back to question him. Apparently nothing was wrong yet—not openly wrong—or Crespin would not be trudging along so contentedly beside that squat image in the white silk, red-edged gown. There was nothing to gain and everything to risk in kicking up an impotent dust before one had to; above all, to show fear was the worst move one could possibly make when one played chess for heads with an Oriental. Odd the Raja was not here! Leading the way just ahead with Mrs. Crespin probably. That was right enough, with Crespin right behind them. So he moved on after the Major.