“You were actually hunting it all by yourself!” said Olga, with a quick shudder.

Her hand still lay in his; he gave it a sudden sharp squeeze.  “Don’t shiver like that!  It’s a sign of too vivid an imagination.  Yes, I was all on my own, and enjoyed it.  It was my first tiger too.  I’ve learned quite a lot about the Indian jungle to-day.  What made Nick choose the haunts of a man-eater for his Christmas party?  Was it one of his little jokes?”

“We didn’t believe in the man-eater,” said Olga, beginning to make subtle efforts to recover possession of her hand.  “There hadn’t been one so near for years, and Nick said he thought it was bunkum.”

“There,” said Max, “he did not display his usual shrewdness of intelligence.  Where is the little god by the way?”

“He’s following on with Noel.  They stopped behind to finish packing.”

Max’s fingers closed more firmly upon hers, so that without open resistance she could not free herself.  “Noel seems to have developed into quite a picturesque cavalier,” he observed impersonally.

He was watching her, she knew; and over her face there ran a great wave of colour.  She was furiously aware of it even before she saw his faint smile.  Desperately she sought to turn the subject.

“Why didn’t you come back to us when the tiger was dead?” she said.  “Why didn’t you let Noel tell me you were there?”

She caught the old glint of mockery in his eyes as he made reply.  “As you have foreseen, fair lady,” he observed, “one answer will suffice for both questions.  It was not my turn just then.  Moreover, you knew I was there.”

“I wasn’t absolutely sure,” she protested quickly.  “I thought it probable that I had made a mistake.”

“Didn’t you expect to see me?” he asked her coolly.

She stared at him.  “How could I?  I never dreamed of your being in India.”

He passed the question by.  “And yet you were the only person in India whom I took the trouble to inform of my arrival.”

Her eyes widened.  “What can you mean?”

“Didn’t you get a message from me this morning?” he asked.

“From you?” she said incredulously.

“I sent you a message,” said Max.

Her hand leaped suddenly in his.  So that was the explanation!  She began to tremble.  “I—­didn’t understand,” she said piteously.

She wished he would turn his eyes from her face, but he kept them fixed upon her.  “I wonder who got the credit for it,” he said.

She turned from his scrutiny in quivering silence.  But her hand remained in his.

He took her gently by the shoulder.  “Olga, tell me!” he said.

“I didn’t know it came from you,” she whispered.

“Why not?  I wrote a line with it.”

“Yes, but—­but—­”

“But—­” said Max, with quiet insistence.

She tried to laugh.  “It was very absurd of me.  The initials weren’t very clear.  I thought they were—­someone else’s.”