"I don't believe one of the turban-tops is to be depended on," proceeded McGlory. "They're all underhand and sly, and not one of 'em, as I size it up, but would stand up a stage or snake a game of faro if he got the chance."
"There you go with your snap judgment," laughed Matt.
"It's right off the reel, anyhow," continued McGlory earnestly. "That Rajah critter was as meek as pie all through the parade. It don't seem reasonable that he'd take such a dead set at the Comet all at once. And, as for Dhondaram getting an attack of cramps, he stood about as much chance of that as of bein' struck by lightning."
Matt was silent.
"Blamed queer," continued McGlory, "that Ben Ali and Aurung Zeeb should drop out, and then, two days after, this other Hindoo should show up. For a happenchance, pard, it's too far-fetched. There's something rotten about it."
"What had Dhondaram got against the Comet?" asked Matt.
"I pass that."
"You're hinting, in a pretty broad way, Joe, that the new mahout deliberately set Rajah on to smash the aëroplane."
"Then I won't hint, pard, but will come out flat-footed. That's just what I think he did."
"Why?"