It was Gloria who cut the Gordian knot.  It was her unwounded hand, not Fred’s, that touched the Rangar’s breast.

“Rustum Khan,” she said, “I think better of you than to believe you would take advantage of our ignorance.  You’re a soldier.  We are only civilians trying to help a tortured nation.  We know nothing of Rajput customs.  Won’t you go to Lord Montdidier and tell him about it, and ask him to decide?  We’ll all obey Monty, you know.”

Rustum Khan looked down at her bandaged wrist, and then into violet eyes that were not in the least degree afraid of him but only looking diligently for the honor he so boasted.

“Who can refuse a beautiful young woman?” he said, beginning to melt.  But he refused to meet her eyes again, or even to acknowledge our existence.

“I give you the prisoner!” He made her a motion of arrogant extravagance with his right hand as if performing the act of transfer.  Then he turned on his heel with a little simultaneous mock salute, and striding to his bay mare, mounted and rode away.

Kagig took over the prisoner at once without comment and began to question him under a tree twenty yards away, paying no attention to the riflemen who matched one another, laughing, for the plundered money.  We four went back to the shelter of the thatch roof, for the plan was to remain behind with the company of Zeitoonli whom Kagig had placed carefully at vantage points, and give stragglers a chance to save themselves before we resumed the journey to Zeitoon.

Naturally enough, Rustum Khan and his fiery unreason was the subject we discussed, and Fred laid law down as to how he should be dealt with whenever the chance should come to bring him to book.  But Rustum Khan was a bagatelle compared to what was coming, if we had only known it.  While we talked I saw Gregor Jhaere, the attaman of gipsies, ride down the track on a brown mule and dismount within ten yards of Kagig.  He hobbled his mule, and went and sat close by Kagig and the Turk, engaging in a three-cornered talk with them.  Kagig seemed to have expected him, for there was no sign of greeting or surprise.

There was nothing disturbing about Gregor’s arrival on the scene; he was evidently helping Kagig to cross-examine the Turk and check up facts.  Within their limits gipsies are about the best spies obtainable because of their ability to take advantage of credulity and their own immeasurable unbelief in protest or appearances.  It was the individual who followed Gregor at a distance, and dismounted from a gray stallion quite a long way off in order not to draw attention to herself, who made my blood turn cold.  I caught sight of Maga Jhaere first because the others had their backs toward her.  Then the expression of my face brought Fred to his feet.  By that time Magi had vanished out of view unaware that any one had seen her, creeping like a pantheress from rock to rock.

“What’s the matter?” Fred demanded, sitting down again, ill-tempered with himself for being startled.