"Now, where have you two been? Oh, my! you are late. And look at Pussy in a pink blouse! How set up she is!" All this harangue was from Dominga--who was lolling in the verandah in a long cane chair. She and her mother had lately returned from Rajahpore, bringing with them a considerable amount of irritation and ill-temper. When Salwey once more made his way to the tea-table, his aunt was still there. "Now, Brian," she said, "sit down here; I want to know what you think of her." "Her?" he repeated, "which her?" "Don't be so ridiculous! You know perfectly well who I mean." "I think," he said, "that the new Miss Chandos is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen." "And has no recollection, that this is not your first meeting, and that but for you her body would have been found in the Jurra?" "I don't know how to believe that she is the sister of that fat little dark girl, or the daughter of Mother Chan, or even the sister of the illustrious Dominga." "Their noses are rather alike," said Mrs. Lepell, with a meditative air; "do you see much of Dominga?" "Much too much! She and her mother are continually in the club, ostensibly to read the papers; the girl plays tennis and badminton--she also plays the fool." "You don't like her, Brian?" "Well, no, I know a few things about Miss Dominga Chandos." "Oh, tell me?" said his aunt, eagerly. "Her people ought to look after her." "And is that all I am to hear?" "Isn't it enough? Think of all the events, situations, and mysteries, your imagination can weave out of that little sentence. To me she is always the Cat--the Red Cat; she has a disagreeable way of winding herself about, and purring." "Singing, you mean?" "I don't admire her caterwauling; her voice is detestable. I always seem to hear the native note dominating her song, the Nautch girl note." "And so you say that Dominga reminds you of a red cat? Take care she does not scratch you some day." "No fear!" Then, as if suddenly recollecting something, "What an extraordinary business this is about Miss Verona's jewels; I cannot understand it." "Neither can I." "To me it looks rather like a hushed-up affair; someone in Manora has had a hand in the robbery." "Perhaps," said Mrs. Lepell, doubtfully, "but Mrs. Chandos is the last woman in the world to allow herself, or her family, to be robbed without a struggle." "Yes, that old scoundrel, Abdul Buk, seems to know something about it." "I always thought he was rather a nice, venerable old person." "He is a nice, deep old person, and I must admit, that I've never yet found him out; he is full of palaver and civility. If I were to believe anonymous letters----" "But no one believes them," protested his aunt. "He is at the bottom of the worst form of usury and blood-sucking in the district." "There you go," said his aunt, "started on your hobby, usury and money-lenders."