“Master no done feel,” was the complacent reply.
“You did do it, you horrible wretch? How dare you? You burned your master’s arm?”
“Better done burn Master arm than Madam face,” persisted Ketty stolidly.
“’Twas not! ’Twas worse—far worse! But why would you want to burn either? Is it mad y’are?”
“Khanum done send wash-ball, done spoil Madam face—no marry Khan,” explained the handmaid brazenly.
“The wash-balls?” Eveleen picked up one of them and regarded it with dilated eyes. “You mean if I had used this on my face——? But why burn your master?”
“Madam done see, done believe.”
“Wouldn’t I have tried it on my own arm if you’d told me? But to go and torture him when he can’t feel——! Listen what I’ll do with you, Ketty. I’m going to see the Khanum now, and you’ll go with me and interpret. But what will we put on the poor arm first? This stuff looks cooling—— Ah no, I won’t let one of them come within a mile of him now. Bearer will likely know what to do.”
She summoned Abdul Qaiyam from the verandah, received his advice to apply a little ghi to the burn, and bade him send word that the Farangi lady craved leave to wait on their Highnesses; but as he went out again with disturbed face, she found herself clasped round the knees by the agonised Ketty, pallid with terror.
“Madam no done scold! No good. No help here. Khanum done kill Madam, kill Master, kill all.”