The Gray Mahatma saw fit to challenge some of that statement.
"It is true, that there are wolves who seek to break in," he said quietly, "but it is false that there are quarrels among ourselves."
"Hah!" That little laugh of hers was like the exclamation of a fellow who has got home with his rapier point.
"Quarrels or not," she answered, "there is a faction that was more than willing to use the ancient passage under my palace grounds, and to hold secret meetings in a room that I made ready for them."
"Faction!" The Gray Mahatma sneered. "Faithful seniors determined to expel unfaithful upstarts are not a faction!"
"At any rate," she chuckled, "they wished to hold a meeting unbeknown to the others, and they wished to make wonderful preparations for not being overheard. And I helped them—is that not so, Mahatma-ji? You see, they were scornful of women—then."
"Peace, woman!" the Mahatma growled. "Does a bee sting while it gathers honey? You spied on our secrets, but did we harm you for it?"
"You did not dare!" she retorted. "If I had been alone, you would have destroyed me along with those unfortunates on whose account you held the meeting. It would have been easy to throw me to the mugger. But you did not know how many women had overheard your secrets! You only knew, that more than one had, and that at least ten women witnessed the fate of your victims. Is that not so?"
"Victims is the wrong word. Call them culprits!" said the Gray Mahatma.
"What would the Government call them?" she retorted.