Abdul sat more erect, and his eyes now assumed a look of keen interest, hitherto somewhat lacking in their expression, as he ejaculated a sonorous "Ah-h!" "I admired the ornament so much, Verona made me take it. I have no jewels, and I have hidden it safely." "Hidden it--and where?" he asked. As he put the question Abdul's great turbaned head lay half resting on his shoulder; his countenance was childlike and bland. "Nay, nay," she answered with a laugh, "I cannot tell you that; the very walls have ears." "It is not then in the dufta?" "Am I a fool?" she demanded, with pardonable indignation. "Nay; thou art a marvel of wisdom." "I think I shall sell the jewel some day; it will add to my daughters' fortunes." "They will have great fortunes, your daughters." "Maybe." "All you pay me for my risks and labour is but a few hundred rupees." "If your commission is low--it is your own fault. The more you bring me, the more you receive." "I receive but little. I am a poor man. I have a large family to maintain; they all look to me." "They will be looking for you now!" said Mrs. Chandos briskly. "Truly thou art a hard woman--hard as a rock." As she spoke Abdul rose and closed the ledger before him with a bang. Mrs. Chandos also rose, and with her foot turned back a rug in the middle of the room; under this was revealed a trap door, which she proceeded to unlock, whilst Abdul Buk lifted the heavy lid. Below was a small space, wherein were boxes and account books. "Surely this is a great convenience," she said. "Here, in the old days of the factory, they too kept money and books." The bag of knotted twine and the big account book were laid within, the trap door was closed, the rug replaced. "I may not come here again for some time," said Abdul Buk. "Salwey spends half a week at Manora; I cannot understand what brings him here, unless he what you call 'smells a rat.'" "Bah!" exclaimed Mrs. Chandos, with great scorn. "Here I am ill at ease. Now, in my quarters in the cantonment bazaar, I feel all right. There I can do business, and take measures." "Truly, yes," assented Mrs. Chandos, "'every dog is a lion in his own lane.' Your peons, and the little deaf writer, how fare they?" "They are at your service. Behold! they are well chosen. They know neither pity nor fear. Thou art a woman with a strong mind." "I am," she answered complacently, "and it is the mind that maketh the body rich! Meet me in two weeks' time, by chance, at the railway station--I will name the hour and day--and there we will confer about the loans on the wheat crop." Mrs. Chandos, as she spoke, turned down the lamp, and went out, locking the door of the office, while Abdul Buk stole round the corner of the bungalow and along the road to where his phaeton was waiting, and drove away. CHAPTER XXXIII