“What?”
“The whole of the Howrah treasure, sir! It's held as security. Howrah guarantees to keep the peace and protect the homes of my men. I guaranteed to hand him back the treasure when the show's over, less deductions for damage done!”
“Well, I'm—Who thought of that? You or Mahommed Gunga?”
“Oh, I expect we cooked it up between us, sir.”
“H-rrrr-umph! And what's in the six-horse coach?”
“A lady and her father.”
“The deuce they are!”
Byng rode up to the lumbering vehicle, signing to Cunningham to follow him.
“General Byng,” said Cunningham. “Miss McClean, sir.”
A very much dishevelled and very weary-looking young woman with a wealth of chestnut hair leaned through the window and smiled, not at the General but at Cunningham. Byng stared—looked from one to the other of them—and said “Hu-rrrr-umph!” again.