“Well, so you had no luck after that tiger down the river!”

This was taking the bull by the horns indeed.  “No,” replied Shafto, “but Stafford saw him and got a shot.  He is there all right.”

“Perhaps you will have another try?” suggested Krauss.

“Perhaps so—­but not for some time.”

“Too much work, eh?  Gregory is doing a big trade just now.”

“Pretty well,” rejoined Shafto, who was secretly surprised that Krauss should accost and talk to him in this way.  Hitherto their acquaintance had been slight and, when he had been to tea at “Heidelberg,” the master of the house was invariably absent.

“How is Mrs. Krauss?  I hope she is better.”

“No, she has been pretty bad the last few weeks—­her niece is coming home in a day or two and that will cheer her up.”  As he concluded he gave Shafto a nod and a curious look and then, with a sort of elephantine waddle, lounged away.

So far Shafto had never spoken of his kubber; even with the evidence of his own eyes he shrank from suspecting anyone connected with Sophy Leigh; but links were joined in spite of his reluctance to face facts.  How could Krauss have known that he had gone tiger shooting?  Surely the affairs of an insignificant fellow like himself never crossed the mental horizon of such a big and busy person as Karl Krauss?  There was no doubt that the animal he had seen near Elephant Point bore a suspicious resemblance to Krauss’s weight-carrying grey pony!  What was “Dacoit” doing in the jungle, thirty miles from Rangoon?  He could make a pretty good guess.  Krauss had motored down, sent the animal on ahead, and ridden through the grass and jungle in order to superintend the landing.

Could this be a fact?  Or was the whole thing a mere coincidence?  Was he obsessed by FitzGerald and suspecting an honest man, who might have been shooting in the swamps—­why not?

CHAPTER XXIV

SENTENCE OF DEATH

When Sophy Leigh returned from May Myo she had half expected her aunt to meet her at the station, and was much concerned to discover, when she arrived home, that Mrs. Krauss had suffered a serious collapse, had not been out of the house for weeks, but was confined to her own apartments, nursed and attended by the ever-faithful Lily.  Her condition seemed as serious as when Sophy had arrived from England, ten months previously, she found the patient propped up among her pillows, weak, apathetic, and terribly wasted.  She looked dreadfully ill and her whole appearance was unkempt and strange.

“Oh, my dear Aunt Flora,” said Sophy kneeling beside her and taking her limp hand, “why did you not let me know? Why did you not wire for me?  I would have come back at once.”

“No, no, no!” murmured Mrs. Krauss as she rolled her head slowly from side to side and closed her drowsy, dark eyes.