The House of the Falcon
Rand By Jove! If you should see a big hillman with a face like a dog, blind in one eye, tell me. He's a murderer, you know. The Maharaja—ruler of Kashmir—has a sense of justice. Which reminds me that I am taking you to the Maharaja's ball, in two days."
The Maharaja was giving the ball to the members of the British Residency and Fraser-Carnie was among those invited. Monsey would be there. And she had promised a dance
"Speaking of your admirers," grumbled the major, "here comes one now, unless I am mistaken. The Russian chap, Monsey."
Edith turned in her saddle and saw Monsey cantering after them, well mounted and well dressed as he always was. Fraser-Carnie looked at her quizzically.
"I owe him," she confided quickly, almost defensively, "a debt."
"Then, my dear young lady, pay it"—her companion spoke sharply—"and wipe the slate clean."
"Why?" she whispered under the beat of the nearing hoofs.
But the major was silent and greeted Monsey with a curt nod. As if by general consent the three quickened their pace, the two men taciturn, the girl smiling. It was clear to her that Fraser-Carnie did not like Monsey. She wondered why.
And then, abruptly, her horse shied. Edith, clever horsewoman that she was, had him under control in a moment and looked to see the cause of the animal's fright.
At the roadside lay an ugly sight, the half-decayed body of a sheep from which a half dozen wide-winged, bald-headed birds had soared up at their approach, startling the horses.
32
