Tess nodded.  Yasmini, by her own admission, would lie deliberately when that suited her; but the truth tells itself, as it were, and there is no mistaking it, except by such as lie invariably, of whom there is a multifarious host.

“If your husband continues digging near the fort he will get nothing, because the English will take it all.  If he digs in a certain other place he will get a very great fortune!”

“But, my dear, supposing that is quite true, how shall he convince Gungadhura, after all the outlay and expense of the present operations, that it’s best to abandon them and begin all over again in another place?”

Yasmini lay back on the cushions, drew something out from under one of them, and laughed softly, as if enjoying a deep underflow of secret information.

“Gungadhura himself shall insist on it!”

“What?  On starting again in a new place?”

Yasmini nodded.

“Only do as I say, and Gungadhura himself shall insist.”

“What do you wish me to do?”

Tess was beginning to feel alarmed again.  She knew to a rupee how much Gungadhura had been obliged to pay out for the digging.  To make herself responsible even in degree for the abandonment of all that outlay would be risky, even if no other construction could be placed on it.

“Has Tom Tripe been told to search your house?”

“Yes, so he says.”

“Do you know the cellar of your house?”

“Yes.”

“It is dark.  Are you afraid to go there?”

“No.  Why?”

“Is there a flat stone in a corner of the cellar floor that once had a ring in it but the ring is broken out?”

“Yes.”

“Good.  Then Sita Ram did not lie to me.  Take this.”  She gave her a little silver tube, capped at either end and sealed heavily with wax.  “There is a writing inside it—­done in Persian.  Hide that under the stone, and let Tom Tripe search the cellar and find it there; but forbid him to remove it.”

“If I only knew what you are driving at!” said Tess with a wry smile.

A clumsier conspirator might have lost the game at that point by over-emphasis, for Tess was wavering between point-blank refusal and delay that would give her time to consult her husband.  But Yasmini, even at that age, was adept at feeling her way nicely.  Again she lay back on the cushion, and this time lit a cigarette, smoking lazily.

“The stake that I am playing for—­the stake that I shall surely win,” she said after a minute, “is too big to be risked.  If you are afraid, let us forget all that I have said.  Let us be friends and nothing more.”

Tess did not answer.  She recognized the appeal to her own pride, and ignored it.  What she was thinking of was Gungadhura’s beastliness—­ his attempts to poison Yasmini—­his treatment of women generally—­ his cruelty to animals in the arena—­his viciousness; and then, of how much more queenly if nothing else, this girl would likely be than ever Gungadhura could be kingly.  It was tempting enough to have a hand in substituting Yasmini for Gungadhura on the throne of Sialpore if the chance of doing it were real.