"And he was not at fault," the Banjara added persuasively; "he did not frighten the pony—it was the rajah's spur, for my brother saw blood on the skin of the horse where the spur had cut."
"Why didn't he open the gate wide; had he orders not to do so?" Finnerty asked quickly.
"Sahib, if the rajah had passed orders such as that he would not have struck a Banjara like a dog, lest there be telling of the orders; but the gate had been injured so that it would not open as always, and the tender did not know it."
"But the rajah did not know we'd be coming along at that time," the major parried.
"As to time, one day matters no more than another. The rajah would have invited you through that gate some time. But he did know you were up in the jungle, and rode forth to meet you."
"It was but a happening," Finnerty asserted, with the intent of extracting from the Lumbani what further evidence he had.
"When one thing happens many times it is more a matter of arrangement than of chance," the Banjara asserted.
"I don't understand," Finnerty declared.
"There is a window in the palace, sahib, directly in front of the gate, and it has been a matter of pastime for the rajah to sit at that window when somebody against whom he had ill will would be admitted and clawed by that black devil."
"Impossible!"