They brought up at last in front of a low dark house at the very edge
of the city. It stood by itself in a compound, with fields behind it, and
looked prosperous enough to belong to one of the maharajah's suite.

"The house of Mukhum Dass!" Yasmini announced.

"The money-lender?"

"Yes."

Dick made a wry face, for the man's extortions were notorious. But
Yasmini never paused to cast up virtue when she needed assistants
in a hurry; rather she was adept at appraising character and bending
it to suit her ends. Ismail, hot and out of breath from running at the cart-tail,
was sent to pound the money-lender's door, until that frightened individual
came down himself to inquire (with the door well held by a short chain)
what the matter was.

"I lend no money in the night!" was his form of greeting. He always
used it when gamblers came to him in the heat of the loser's passion
at unearthly hours--and sometimes ended by making a loan at very
high interest on sound security. Otherwise he would have stayed in
bed, whatever the thunderous importunity.

Yasmini was down at the door by that time, and it was she who answered.

"Nay, but men win lawsuits by gathering evidence! Are title-deeds not
legal in the dark?"

"Who are you?" he demanded, reaching backward for a little lamp that