And what a woman! She was tall ... much taller than the average man, almost as tall as Ramey himself. But there was no gangling awkwardness to her height. Her figure was perfectly proportioned to her stature. She walked with the slow and lithe and languorous grace of a jungle creature. A panther, perhaps, thought Ramey, with rapt approval watching her move nearer. Yes, assuredly a panther. For she was neither white nor Mongolian. Her skin was the soft, fine ivory of the Eurasian. Ivory, shading to tawny gold with the contours of her body, deepening with the curve of her thigh, the round of her elbow, the shadowy cup of her breasts. Pantherine, too, were her eyes. Triangular eyes, long-lashed and lazy, with pupils of dusty emerald.
Captain Kohrisan sprang to attention as she approached, saluted and cried introduction:
"My lords—the Lady Rakshasi!"
CHAPTER IX
"—Or Not to Be"
The Lady Rakshasi spoke, and her voice was just what Ramey thought it would be. Throaty and mellow, caressing-low with a throbbing undertone of promise. She addressed Sugriva, and her words included all present, but there was that in her tone, her manner, the sidelong appraisal of her eyes, which made Ramey feel her welcome was for him alone.
"Greetings, Sire. My brother tells me the Children of the Gods favor us with a visit. I come to welcome them."
Red Barrett made no attempt to conceal his frank admiration. He said, "Don't mention it, baby. Boy, Ramey, I'm getting gladder we come every minute. They grow 'em terrific around these parts! First little carrot-top, here, then this Ziegfeld doll—"
The Lady Rakshasi looked confused.