“The durbar is over,” she said, in a clear, ringing voice.
“But,” protested Koom Khan, “the prisoners—the two sahebs—what punishment …”
“I am the autocrat of this land,” said the princess, “remember that, Koom Khan. Remember, too”—touching the ancient English blade which connected the fate of her clan with that of the Wades of Dealle—“that once I was forced to forget that I am a woman and …”
“I remember,” said Koom Khan, hastily, looking at the scar which disfigured his wrist.
“Good! The durbar is over. Let Higgins saheb be put in a stout prison. And as to the other saheb—I—I forgive him! For he, too, is of the Gengizkhani blood! His coming, too, was spoken of in the old prophecy—the wooing of the blades!”
And it was Jane who, being a woman and in love, thus wise beyond her years, put the right construction on the strange scene.
“Dad,” she said to Mr. Warburton, “the little princess is in love with Tollemache Wade. She practically told him so.”
“Most indelicate,” commented her father, who considered all the softer emotions as rather immoral.
“I don't know, dad. It's the custom in the Orient for the woman to make the advances to the man.”
“Can't say that, in this respect, the Orient differs so very much from the Occident,” rejoined her father cynically.
