Caravans By Night Part 15

"Did I say so, O wise one? Again your thoughts are as clear as a crystal pool. You say to yourself, 'Such a h.o.a.rd of jewels cannot be smuggled out of India; she is trying to confuse me.' But nay! The G.o.ds of India are many and I swear by all of them that every gem that was stolen, down to the last pearl, can be spirited out of India at any moment it is so desired--and under the very eyes, nay, the protection, of your Secret Service!"

If this statement surprised him, his face did not betray it; he disconcerted her by looking interestedly at the bra.s.s _lota_. His indifference drew fire.

"I said it could be done!" she declared. "Whether it will be is for you to learn. Oh, you do not deceive me! I know you are consumed with curiosity, under that sh.e.l.l of yours! Your Raj, well fed and growing fat with wisdom, thinks it has a clue. Chavigny! The Raj thinks Chavigny is involved!"

She leaned closer; peered intently into his eyes. The illusive fragrance of sandalwood from her hair was not calculated to make him feel any more at ease. But he did not stir nor wink an eyelid under the close scrutiny.

"Chavigny!" she mocked. "Chavigny, the famous thief! Chavigny, whom some silly Secret Service man tracked to Indore--and lost! Chavigny, driven into hiding in Delhi! Pah! Let the Raj search for Chavigny, let it turn Delhi inside out--while we look on and laugh! You--you have imagination!

I can guess what is in your mind, for I, too, have imagination! You have pictured a gigantic criminal organization--a gem syndicate, let us say--a flock of jewel vultures who have swooped down and plucked clean the bones of the empire! And perhaps you even think Chavigny the leader, yes?"

She smiled, quite pleased with herself. Then once more she leaned close to him.

"What would you think if I told you there is such a band--an order, we will call it--of jewel vultures who have flown away with riches worth a dozen rajah's ransoms? What would you think? Only"--she paused dramatically--"we will omit Chavigny, for if there be such an order he is not its head nor in it!"

He drew out his smokes; pa.s.sed them to her. She refused, and he lighted a cigarette and flicked the match through the archway. Then he suggested:

"Aren't all cards to go on the table?"

She smiled wisely. "No, I can play them more effectively one by one,"

was her retort.

His brain was working swiftly yet carefully. When he had selected his words he uttered them.

"Presuming there is such an order, as you call it, we'll go further and say that you, by some unguessable means, have become a member; and are working with them for the Raj."

She looked her approval. "Presumably"--with a nod. That word was a key to further knowledge.

"Then it would seem logical, if I'm to work with you, for me to be initiated into the mysteries of this order--become a member, in other words."

"Go on," she encouraged.

"So the purpose of this visit, I take it, is for me to learn the 'Open Sesame' of the order."

And having said that much, he realized it was sufficient and relapsed into quiet to let her do the rest of the talking.

"You have already proved that I chose well," she announced. "But before I go on you must give me your word of honor that all I have said and will say, all that occurs until I release you from the promise, will never be repeated--by word or writing."

"I give it," he returned quietly.

She leaned over and deftly drew back the lids from Kerth's eyes; Trent caught a fleeting glimpse of the whites.

"To-morrow you leave Benares," she directed, again a.s.sured. "You will take a train in the morning for Bombay and go to an address which I shall give you; and do as I instruct." Her hand slipped under her waist and brought out a long blank envelope. "In this envelope are your instructions. I must have your promise not to read them until you are on the train to Bombay; then destroy them immediately."

He inclined his head and placed the envelope in his pocket.

"You said that when I leave this house I am no longer Major Trent," he reminded.

"You are Robert Tavernake, a jeweller, from London. All that is contained in the instructions."

"Including the name of the order?"--his curiosity escaping him.

For answer she clapped her hands and curtains parted to admit a servant with a black lacquer tray. From the tray she lifted a small box; opened it as the servant padded out.

"This is the symbol of the order"--removing a string of beads.

Had Trent felt any hesitancy about plunging into this blind mission it would have vanished at sight of the beads--reddish coral beads, with an oval-shaped pendant overlaid with the silver image of a three-eyed G.o.d!

The only emotion he displayed was to moisten his lips; but it required all the force he could marshal to check the questions that flooded to his tongue, to mask his surprise and reach with a steady hand for the beads. Despite his control, it seemed for a moment that he would betray his nervousness.

"... the Order of the Falcon," he heard her say. "See--" She inserted her fingernail under the silver band that finished the coral; the pendant opened, like a locket. The interior was silver and a name was engraved upon the back--"Robert Tavernake."

She snapped the oval shut and he took the beads; twisted them carelessly around his fingers, until the deep reddish coral seemed like huge drops of blood welling from his hand. As he caught the significance of the illusion, he looked up quickly and spoke.

"Am I to carry these?"

She nodded.

His thoughts swung back to the oval that lay in his handbag at the hotel.

"Is it customary to have the name engraved--like this?"--with a gesture.

After the words left his mouth he realized he had made an indiscreet move. She looked at him suspiciously, then answered:

"Customary, yes--among those who possess such beads."

He did not fail to grasp the insinuation that her speech bore. He glanced down at the beads in his hand, casually enough; toyed with them; slipped them into his pocket. His heart had not resumed its normal beat, but the tension had eased. He fastened his eyes upon the relaxed figure of Kerth and--

"It will be permissible, I presume," he began, as though the sight of the turbaned head suggested the question, "to take my bearer along?"

Did a smile flicker across her eyes, he wondered, or was it only his fancy? The answer came decisively.

"It is scarcely practicable."

"Why?"--a shade too artlessly.

"Servants have eyes to see and ears to hear."

Something in her tone caused him to wonder if she had penetrated under Kerth's masquerade. All the while he was subconsciously thinking of the mate to the oval in his pocket.

"What harm in taking him to Bombay?" he pursued, conscious that he was losing ground.

Again he could have taken oath that he saw the shadow of a smile in her eyes.

"To Bombay?" she repeated thoughtfully. "No"--slowly--"no, I see no objection. I concede that." But he did not like the manner in which she said it.

"Conditionally, however," she added. "He must leave to-night. When he reaches Bombay let him reserve a room for you at the Taj Mahal--and wait."

Trent was discreet enough to accept her terms without question. His eyes returned to Kerth. He saw him stir slightly, heard a sigh leave his lips. The woman, too, saw and heard.

"He is awakening," she observed. "I shall summon Chandra Lal to guide you back to your hotel."