destruction. It also made it possible to rein in the terrified horse exactly
in front of the palace gate; another proof that as Yasmini said, the gods
of India were in a mood to help that night. (Not that she ever believed
the gods are one bit more consequential than men.)

Yasmini drew the bolt, and the gate creaked open reluctantly; the shock
of the elephant's shoulder had about ended its present stage of usefulness.
Tom Tripe, dismounting from his horse in a hurry and throwing the reins
over the dog-cart lamp, was first to step through.

"Where's my dog?" he demanded. "Where's that Trotters o' mine?
Did Akbar get him?"

A cold nose thrust in his hand was the answer.

"Oh, so there you are, you rascal! There--lie down!"

That was all the ceremonial that passed between them, but the dog
seemed satisfied.

Tess was out through the gate almost sooner than Tom Tripe could
enter it. They brushed each other's shoulders as they passed. Up in
the dog-cart she and her husband laughed in each other's arms, each
at the other's disguise, neither of them with the slightest notion what
would happen next, except that Dick knew the dog-cart wheels would
have to be unlashed.

"How many people will the carriage hold?" Yasmini called to them,
appearing suddenly in the lamp-light. And Dick Blaine began laughing
all over again, for except for the golden hair she looked so like the wife