But as it did so Badshah swung swiftly round—­well for Noreen that she was securely fastened—­for he had been standing a little sideways.  And with an upward sweep of his head he caught the leaping tiger in mid-air on the point of his tusk, hurling it back a dozen yards.

As the baffled brute struck the ground with a heavy thud it lay still for a second and then sprang up, but at that moment Dermot’s second barrel rang out, and, shot through the brain, the tiger collapsed, its head resting on its paws.  A tremor shook the powerful frame, the tail twitched feebly, then all was still.

The long line of elephants halted on the far bank of the nullah, swung into file, and moved swiftly out of sight.  Their work was done.

Dermot reloaded and urged Badshah forward, covering the tiger with his rifle.  There was no need.  It was dead.

Noreen leant forward and looked down at the striped body.

“What a splendid beast!” she exclaimed.

Dermot turned to her.

“You kept your word well, Miss Daleham,” he said.  “I congratulate you on your pluck.  The highest compliment I can pay you is to say that I forgot you were there.  Not many men would have sat as quiet as you did when the cartridge missed fire and the brute sprang.”

The girl’s eyes sparkled and she blushed.  His praise was very dear to her.

In a lighter tone he continued: 

“As a reward and a souvenir you shall have the skin.  I’ll get the villagers to take it off.  Now stay on Badshah, please, while I slip down and have a look at the tiger’s little nest.”

With rifle at the ready, lest the dead animal should have had a mate, he climbed down into the nullah.  He had not gone ten yards before his foot struck against something hard.  In the pressed-down weeds was the half-gnawed skull of a man.  The skin and flesh of the face were fairly intact.  He took the head up in his hands.  On the forehead were painted three white horizontal strokes.  The tiger’s last prey had been a Brahmin.  A thought flashed across Dermot’s mind.  He searched about.  A few bones, parts of the hands and feet, some rags of clothing—­and a long flat narrow leather case.  He tore this open and hastily took out the papers it contained; and as he skimmed through them his eyes glistened with delight.

He sprang up out of the nullah and ran towards Badshah.  When the elephant’s trunk had swung him up on to the massive head he said: 

“We must go back at once.  I ’ll tell the villagers as we pass to flay the tiger.  I must borrow your brother’s pony and ride as fast as I can to Salchini to get Payne’s motor to take me to the railway.”

“The railway?” exclaimed the girl.  “Why, what is the matter?  Where are you going?”

“To Simla.  I’ve found the lost messenger.  Aye, and perhaps information that may save India and proofs that will hang our friends in the Palace of Lalpuri. Mul, Badshah!”