He was gone, leaving Muriel with the curious impression that there really was something of importance that he wished to say to her.

She wondered what it was.  That he was paying her serious attention she had never for a moment believed, nor had she given him the faintest encouragement to do so.  She knew that Lady Bassett thought otherwise, but she had never rated her opinion very highly; and she had never read anything but the most casual friendliness in Bobby’s attitude.

Still it disturbed her somewhat, that hint of intimacy that his words portended, and she awaited the dance he had solicited in a state of mind very nearly allied to apprehension.  Lady Bassett’s suggestions had done for her what no self-consciousness would ever have accomplished unaided.  They had implanted within her a deep-rooted misgiving before which all ease of manner fled.

When Bobby Fraser joined her, she was so plainly nervous that he could not fail to remark it.  He led her to a quiet corner above the garden that was sheltered from the throng by flowering tamarisks.

“I say,” he said, “I hope you are not letting yourself get scared by these infernal budmashes.  The reports have all been immensely exaggerated as usual.”

“I am not at all scared,” she told him.  “But wasn’t there an Englishman murdered the other day?”

“Oh, yes,” he admitted, “but miles and miles away, right the other side of the State.  There was nothing in that to alarm any one here.  It might have happened anywhere.  People are such fools,” he threw in vindictively.  “Begin to look askance at the native population, and of course they are on the qui vive instantly.  It is only to be expected.  It was downright madness to send a Resident here.  They resent it, you know.  But the Rajah’s influence is enormous.  Nothing could happen here.”

“I wonder,” said Muriel.

She had scarcely given the matter a thought before, but it was a relief to find some impersonal topic for discussion.

Bobby, however, had no intention of pursuing it further.  “Oh, it’s self-evident,” he said.  “They are loyal to the Rajah, and the Rajah is well-known to be loyal to the Crown.  It’s only these duffers of administrators that make the mischief.”  He broke into an abrupt laugh, and changed the subject.  “Let us talk of something less exasperating.  How did you get on while you were away?  You must have found the journey across the Plains pretty ghastly.”

She told him a little about it, incidentally mentioning Will Musgrave.

“Oh, I know him,” he broke in.  “An engineer, isn’t he?  Awfully clever chap.  I met him years ago at Sharapura the time Nick Ratcliffe won the Great Mogul’s Cup.  I told you that story, didn’t I?”

Yes, he had done so.  She informed him of the fact with an immovable face.  It might have been a subject of total indifference to her.

“You know Nick Ratcliffe, don’t you?” he pursued, evidently following his own train of thought.