tune was nearly at an end, and it would be time presently for her to
take up the burden of entertainment.

"He will ask, perhaps, to speak with a Sikh of influence."

"Sahib, 'to hear is to obey,'" she mocked, rising to her feet.

"Listen yet!" commanded Ranjoor Singh. "Serve me in this matter, and
there will be great reward. I, who am only one, might die by a
dagger, or a rope in the dark, or ground glass in my bread; but then
there would be a squadron, and perhaps a regiment, to ask questions."

"Perhaps?"

"Perhaps. Who knows?"

He spoke from modesty, sure of the squadron that he loved so much
better than his life, but not caring to magnify his own importance by
claiming the regard of the other squadrons, too. But Yasmini, who
never in her life went straight from point to point of an idea and
never could believe that anybody else did, supposed he meant that one
squadron was in his confidence, whereas the rest had not yet been
sounded.

"So speaks one who is for the Raj!" she grinned.

Playing for profit and amusement, she never, never let anybody know
which side she had taken in any game. Therefore she despised a man
who showed his hand to her, as she believed Ranjoor Singh had done.
But she only showed contempt when it suited her, and by no means