The House of the Falcon
"Rawul Singh had his orders—not to leave Miss Rand. He would obey orders, you know."
"Yes, he would do that," Monsey's voice was uncertain, as if he were thinking quickly. "May I ask—how he died?"
"Stabbed in the back, and his throat slashed. Quite clearly he was attacked in the road, for we found blood stains there. These led us to look for the body in the bushes. It was thoroughly wet, having been exposed to the rain during the night, so the murder must have taken place during the time of the ball." The officer took up his pen. "Dhar Beg!"
The figure of the Afghan stiffened.
"Did Rawul Singh come to you among the carriages last night?"
"Sahib, he did not come." Dhar Beg was the son of chiefs and he had been a noncommissioned officer in a native regiment. Wherefore, his words were prompt and to the point.
"You did not see him seeking the carriage?"
"Nay. A storm was arising, and I was leading the horses to a covered place. Sahib, I thought Rawul Singh called to me once. I did not answer, being busy with the beasts. But, later, I went to see if he had called and I did not see him. There was much confusion because of the coming storm."
"Know you aught of this cart?" Fraser-Carnie and Dhar Beg were conversing in Hindustani.
"A cart—nay." Dhar Beg plucked at his beard shrewdly. "But a carriage passed before my sight, rolling swiftly."
"What carriage?"
"The same, sahib, that nearly ran us down, owing to the thrice-cursed arrogance of its driver, when we
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