And she sat moodily slowly drawing the point of her stiletto in little crosses on the wood flooring. An hour or two passed in this way, and then Ma Mie looked up.
"Mother," she said, "I am going on a journey. I shall be back on the third day from this. If he comes, make some excuse. Listen, it will be worth a thousand to us."
"Clever girl! clever girl!" said the hag; "leave it to Ma Kit. I know now. Oh, yes, I know many things that nobody else knows. He! he! When are you going, child?"
"Now," said Ma Mie. "The little steamer touches here at ten to-night, and it now wants but a half hour to the time."
Her packing arrangements were of the simplest character, and an hour later she was leaning over the side of the small steamer that plied between Dagon and Pazobin, with burning revenge in her heart and a long cheroot in her mouth--bathos and tragedy hand in hand. The morning brought her to Pazobin, and she went straight to Jackson's house. To her dismay, she found he was not there--he had gone to the district the night before, and Phipson with him. Then she bethought her of the native deputy magistrate; but he was a Burman, and she doubted him. Finally she thought of old Serferez Ali, and, seeking him out, poured the information into the old man's ears. It was not the reward she wanted, it was revenge; but not revenge upon Jackson, but upon the fiend who had tempted and was now tempting again to drag her to the lowest deep. "Is all this true, girl?" said the inspector, and Ma Mie merely looked at him in reply. He was satisfied. "Go back at once," he said; "the dispatch boat leaves this afternoon; you will be there by the early morning; and stay--not a word of this to a soul. You have money?"
Ma Mie laughed. "Yes," she said. "And see, I will add five hundred rupees to the government reward if you have him this time." She turned and was gone.
"Light of my eyes! thou art gone," said Serferez to himself. "Fool that I was not to recognise her! But, Allah! this is no time for words. Bullen! Bullen! thief from the Boab, saddle me the roan mare--and listen, on your head! Bear this telegram, and let it be despatched at once. I want the police steamer at Myo to-night; and you, sergeant, be ready with twenty picked men at the quay to-morrow morning at seven. Soh! Is the mare ready? On your heads, see that my orders are carried out to the letter." He swung himself into the saddle, and five minutes later was Debte riding at a breakneck pace to Jackson's camp.
CHAPTER XIV.
[PALLIDA MORS.]
Ah! woe is me! They brought him home,