It was all done in a flash. Raynier saw the two figures, in half-bent, crouching attitude, glide suddenly into the middle of the road--and he knew that each held a long knife. There was no time to stop. He saw his bicycle strike one of them full in the chest, as he put it at him at full speed--then became conscious that he himself was whirling through the air to land with a crash beneath the tamarisk hedge. He saw the other of them coming towards him knife in hand; saw in a moment the shaggy tresses, and the savage eyes glaring beneath the great turban, and then--there crashed forth a couple of shots, seemingly over his head. His assailant had disappeared. At the moment he realised the position. The occurrence had taken place just in front of the Forest Officer's compound, and the Forest Officer being a very great sportsman, his bungalow was a miniature arsenal of weapons of all sorts. Moreover, he was a man of experience and quick wit. He too had heard the expiring yell of the murdered man, and had come forth to investigate, armed with a large and business-like revolver which he well knew how to use. In this instance, however, the darkness, and some fear of hitting the wrong man, had spoiled his shots. But of either at whom they were directed there remained no sign. Both had made themselves scarce. "What's all the bobbery about?" sang out this friend in need, descrying the doubled-up figure under the hedge. "Who is it?" "Me--Raynier." "The devil! Not hurt, are you?" "Someone up the road is--that's why I was chevying those `budmashes.' Come along up there and we'll investigate." The Forest Officer shouted lustily to his servants to bring a lantern, and they, aroused by the shots, were not long in doing so. Raynier picked himself up, somewhat gingerly. "I say--you did get a toss," said the other. "Not hurt, eh?" "N-no. I think not. Shaken up a bit--like a tonic bottle." Strange to say the bicycle had received little or no damage either. "These Pathans are tough," said the Forest Officer. "Fancy being able to clear out after a collision like that." They reached the spot where the dead man was lying. A shout or two from Raynier brought out his own people, with more lanterns. It was not a nice sight to gaze upon at midnight--the ghastly fear and agony stamped upon the dead face, and the great pool of blood still welling forth afresh as they turned the body over. Raynier could not help contrasting it in his mind with the scene he had just left hardly more than a quarter of an hour ago. "I seem to know the face too," he said, in a puzzled way. "Who is he, Kaur Singh? Do you know?" "_Ha, Huzoor_. It is the trading man whom your Highness allowed to travel on the skirt of your protection when we had been visiting Mushim Khan."