“I desire to have a few words with you, Maharajah!”

“And I have instructed my servants to inform you that I am not at your service.  You see I am at luncheon!”

“That, in your case, is no reason for refusing to receive the representative of His Britannic Majesty.  The message you sent me was an insult, which, if repeated, will have to be punished.”

In a transport of rage the Prince sprang up from his chair.  He hurled an abusive epithet into the Colonel’s face, and his right hand sought the dagger in his belt.  The attendant, who was about to serve up to his master a ruddy lobster on a silver dish, recoiled in alarm.  But the Colonel, without moving an inch from his place, placed the silver hunting whistle that hung from his shoulder to his mouth.  Two shrill calls, and at once the trotting of horses and the rattle of arms was audible.  The high, blue-striped turbans of the cavalry and the pennons of their lances made their appearance under the terrace.

“Call my bodyguard!” cried the Prince, with a voice hoarse with rage.

But in a voice of icy calm the Colonel retorted, “If you summon your bodyguard, Maharajah, you are a dead man.  That would be rebellion; and with rebels we make short shrift.”

The Prince pressed his lips together; the rage he had with the greatest difficulty suppressed caused his body to quiver as in a paroxysm of fever, but he had to realise that he was here the weaker, and without a word more he fell back again into his chair.

The Colonel stepped to the balcony of the terrace.

“Sergeant Thomson!” he called down into the park.

Heavy steps were heard on the marble stairs, and the man summoned, followed by two soldiers, stood at attention before his superior officer.

“Sergeant, do you know the gentleman sitting at that table?”

“Yes, sir!  It is His Highness the Maharajah.”

“If I gave you orders to arrest this gentleman and bring him to camp, would you hesitate to obey?”

The sergeant regarded his superior officer as if the doubt of his loyal military obedience astonished him.  He at once gave the two soldiers who were with him a nod and advanced a step further towards the Prince, as though at once to carry out the order.

“Stop, sergeant!” cried the Colonel.  “I hope that His Highness will not let matters go as far as that.  You are perhaps ready now, Maharajah, to receive me?”

The Indian silently pointed to the golden chair at the other end of the table.  At a sign from the Colonel the sergeant and the two soldiers withdrew.

“I have a very serious question to put to you, Maharajah.”

“Speak!”

“Last evening, during Captain Irwin’s absence, several rascals entered his house with the intention of committing an act of violence on the person of the Captain’s wife.  What do you know about the matter, Maharajah?”

“I do not understand, Colonel.  What should I know?”