"But Abdul will invest it for Verona, and get her good interest--won't you, Abdul?" said Mrs. Chandos; "say one hundred and fifty rupees a year." As she spoke she turned towards him, and their eyes met in one long, fixed look. "Oh, yess; certainly," he answered, "I can promise thatt. Oh, yess." "Then you will invest in sugar?" "Oh, yess." "Had you better take it now, or another time?" "No time like the present," he replied; "delays are dangerous. See," to Mrs. Lopez, "I have the English proverbs at my fingers' ends. My carriage is here, and I will take the money. In this big house it is not safe." "That is true," acquiesced Nani. Meanwhile Mrs. Chandos, who seemed to be feverishly excited, gathered up the sovereigns with hot, tremulous fingers, and returned them into the green silk bag, which she handed to Abdul with a nod of mysterious significance. "Of course, he will give a receipt," said Mrs. Lopez in a sharp business-like voice; "better take receipt." "Oh, yess; I will go into the office and write it, and Mrs. Chandos will lend me one stamp," and he tramped out with ponderous creaking footfall. Whilst Abdul was absent the crocodile travelling case attracted Mrs. Lopez' curiosity, and she requested an immediate introduction to its further contents. One by one these were gradually presented, a tiny gold watch and jewelled chain, a case of valuable rings. As each was exhibited Mrs. Lopez and her daughter joined in a harmonious duet of "Oh, mys!" But a turquoise and diamond necklace, and a splendid emerald pendant, set in brilliants, reduced them to a condition of gasping silence. Subsequent silver-mounted brushes, mirrors and bottles and even a gold shoe-horn appeared in comparison but very small deer. Had that gambling old card-table, imported in the early days of John Company, ever exhibited as much money's worth? The ayah had crept in stealthily; so had Pussy. Were they drawn by some inexplicable instinct, or by the mere, careless chance of pure coincidence? Abdul, too, had returned, paper in hand, and stood silent in the background, admiring, and possibly appraising, the jewels. What a scene for an artist! The hot, squalid room, the dark faces, the staring, greedy eyes; in the midst the little old table loaded with jewels, and the pale, indifferent English girl to whom they all belonged. "What think you of these, Abdul?" demanded Mrs. Chandos, pointing with a tremulous finger. "That," advancing two steps, with creaking boots, "the wife of the Viceroy hath no better." "And their value?" she asked, sharply.