Has Khinjan struck you dumb?"

But he did not speak. He was staring at her arm, where two whitish
marks on the skin betrayed that bracelets had been.

"Oh, those! They are theirs. I would not rob the dead, or the
gods would turn on me. I robbed you, instead, while you slept.
Fie, King sahib, while you slept!"

But her steel did not strike on flint. It was her eyes that flashed.
He would have done better to have seemed ashamed, for then he might
have fooled her, at least for a while. But having judged himself,
he did not care a fig for her judgment of him. She realized that
instantly and having found a tool that would not work, discarded
it for a better one. She grew confidential.

"I borrow them," she explained, "but I put them back. I take them
for so many days, and when the day comes--the gods like us to be exact!
Once there was an Englishman to whom I lent the larger one, and he
refused to return it. He wanted it to wear, to bring him luck.
Collins, of the Gurkhas. A cobra bit him."

King's eyes changed, for Collins of the Gurkhas had died in his
two arms, saying never a word. He had always wondered why the
native who ran in to kill the cobra had run away again and left
Collins lying there after seeming to shake hands with him. Yasmini,
watching his eyes and reading his memory, missed nothing.

"You saw?" she said excitedly. "You remember? Then you understand!
You yourself were near death when I took the bracelet last night.