Stella shivered again. "Do you know, Everard, I can't bear to hear you talk like that? It is the untamed, savage part of you." He drew her to him. "Yes, the soldier part. I know. I know quite well. But my dear, do me the justice at least to believe that I am on the side of right! I can't do other than talk generalities to you. You simply wouldn't understand. But there are some criminals who can only be beaten with their own weapons, remember that. Nicholson knew that--and applied it. I follow--or try to follow--in Nicholson's steps." She clung to him suddenly and closely. "Oh, don't--don't! This is another age. We have advanced since then." "Have we?" he said sombrely. "And do you think the India of to-day can be governed by weakness any more successfully than the India of Nicholson's time? You have no idea what you say when you talk like that. Ermsted is not the first Englishman to be killed in this State. The Rajah of Markestan is too wily a beast to go for the large game at the outset, though--probably--the large game is the only stuff he cares about. He knows too well that there are eyes that watch perpetually, and he won't expose himself--if he can help it. The trouble is he doesn't always know where to look for the eyes that watch." A certain exultation sounded in his voice, but the next instant he bent and kissed her. "Why do you dwell on these things? They only trouble you. But I think you might remember that since they exist, someone has to deal with them." "You don't trust Ahmed Khan?" she said. "You think he is treacherous?" He hesitated; then: "Ahmed Khan is either a tiger or--merely a jackal," he said. "I don't know which at present. I am taking his measure." She still held him closely. "Everard," her voice came low and breathless, "you think he was responsible for Captain Ermsted's death. May he not have been also for--for--" He checked her sharply before Ralph Dacre's name could leave her lips. "No. Put that out of your mind for good! You have no reason to suspect foul play where he was concerned." He spoke with such decision that she looked at him in surprise. "I often have suspected it," she said. "I know. But you have no reason for doing so. I should try to forget it if I were you. Let the past be past!" It was evident that he would not discuss the matter, and, wondering somewhat, she let it pass. The bare mention of Dacre seemed to be unendurable to him. But the suspicion which his words had started remained in her mind, for it was beyond her power to dismiss it. The conviction that he had met his death by foul means was steadily gaining ground within her, winding serpent-like ever more closely about her shrinking heart.