“Why, in hiding, of course!” in surprise.
“Not a bit of it! A man don’t go into hiding in Khemistan for little accidents like that. I dare be bound the fellow is now boasting to his friends of the revenge he has taken on his father-in-law, and every one of ’em is sympathising with him. That’s all.”
“But d’ye mean nothing will be done?”
“Nothing whatever.”
“You mean you will do nothing?”
“My dear Mrs Ambrose, what could I do? Killing is no murder here, where a woman is concerned.”
“But it ought to be. You could go to the chief Khan——”
“He would merely laugh at me. ‘Murder, you say, sahib? Who was killed? A woman? and the man’s wife? and he was angry with her father? Why, of course he killed her. It was the natural thing to do.’ And that’s precisely what it is—in Khemistan.”
“And you let them go on like this? You say nothing——”
“What could I say? And what good would it do? It ain’t as though the poor creature were alive, and I could save her by intervening. It’s too late—unfortunately.”