“That I have!” She handed him the little parcel from her saddle-pocket. “And it must be three hundred rupees, you’ll remember—no less, and I want to send it to Poonah.”
“A letter of credit,” he murmured vaguely. “And these—this is your own, ma’am?”
“Every bit my own—given me by the General. Major Ambrose has nothing to do with it. Then I’ll be riding about here, if you’ll bring me the money or the letter or whatever it is?”
“If I might send it to the Residency——?” feebly, but he was wax in her hands. The old tradition of the hunting-field was too strong. She scorned the suggestion.
“Didn’t you tell me yourself it wouldn’t do? No, just give it me here, and we’ll be done with it.”
What the Daffadar and his men thought when they saw the Daroga ride back to his escort, and found themselves following at a discreet distance, did not appear. Eveleen was determined to keep her emissary in sight, lest he should make use of the narrow lanes between the garden walls to take to his heels, and afterwards return the jewel with regrets. She had no particular confidence in him—merely a lordly feeling that since he was here, he must do what was required of him, and be well looked after while he did it. He had always been inclined to shirk his fences, and her kindness to him after the boghole disaster was a debt of honour, since it was purely at her incitement he had dared the leap. She saw him halt at a gateway and demand admittance, then ride in, and she began to walk Bajazet up and down, keeping a wary eye on the gate meanwhile, the escort following her movements faithfully. Sooner than she expected she saw Carthew emerging again, and rode forward to meet him.
“You won’t tell me you have not made him do it? You must think of somebody else, then.”
“It ain’t that. The old chap seems uncommon pleased, that’s a fact. But he wants to know how you got hold of the thing—afraid he might be accused of stealin’ it, I suppose”—as wrath flashed from Eveleen’s eyes—“and if it’s brought you good luck since you had it?”
“What in the world would that matter to him?”
“I don’t know, ma’am—unless he’s afraid of keepin’ it in his house if it’s been unlucky with you.”