Hilda Clive seemed to have become quieter and more retiring than ever, and the station--whose attempt to lionise her she had resolutely evaded--decided that anxiety about Raynier was her motive, for it was universally opined that "that would be a _bundobust_" once the border trouble was over. One day she said to the Tarletons,--"Do you remember how scared you all were for fear I should go through the Syyed's _tangi_ with Mr Raynier?" "Rather," said Haslam, who was there, helping Tarleton to reduce Mushim Khan--in theory. "How long ago was that?" They fell to discussion; deciding that it was quite two months. "Well, then, I ought to be dead by now. The tradition says before the end of the second moon. And even when we were talking about the place, I had already been through it once. I have been through it twice since. The third time it saved our lives, as you know." The story of this latter event in its completeness they had agreed to keep to themselves, only giving out that the Gularzai had shrunk from following them into the _tangi_ from superstitious motives. "I told you I'd prove that superstition nonsensical," she went on, her eyes dancing with fun. "Well, what have you got to say for yourselves?" "You'd already been through it before that night, Miss Clive?" said Haslam. "Well, I'm jiggered!" "Yes. But what about the rule?" she persisted. "I'm not dead yet." Snapped Tarleton, "Well, you can't expect there to be no exception to every rule, can you?" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hilda had been giving herself over to business of late, for each mail brought her enclosures, bulky and blue, and of unequivocally legal aspect. With such documents she would shut herself up in Tarleton's den, which he had made over to her for the purpose, and she was so engaged one morning, when Raynier was announced. He had returned to Mazaran the day before, and they had met--in public; but this visit was one of arrangement--of her arrangement. Hilda looked up from the papers she had been busy with as he entered--in fact made a guilty and trepidatious attempt at sweeping them out of sight, which suggested a weakness entirely foreign to her. "Well, how are things going?" she asked gaily. "Things are going quite right. We have that pestiferous _mullah_, Hadji Haroun, safe by the heels, and Mushim Khan has cut out of all further part in the _jihad_. That's good enough to begin with." "Yes--and you? You know, you must get removed from here. The blood feud will overtake you sooner or later." "No, I think not. I believe Mushim Khan was wound up by that sweep of a _mullah_. Now he only remembers what I did for his son. And he has done nothing beyond what he did to me individually, and Murad Afzul is dead, so the Government will not be hard on him, and things will be as they were."