Gloria turned pale and Will laid a hand on her shoulder, whispering something that brought the color back again.

“Maga!”

Kagig said that one word in a level voice, but the effect was greater than if he had pointed a pistol.  The fire died from her eyes and she nodded at him simply.  Then her eyes blazed again, although she looked away from Gloria toward a window.  The leather blind was tied down at the corners by strips of twisted hide.

She began to jabber in the gipsy tongue—­then changed her mind and spat it out in English for our joint benefit.

“All right.  She is nothing to do with me, that woman, and she shall come to a rotten end, I know, an’ that is enough.  But there is some one listening!  Not a woman—­not with spunk enough to be a woman!  That dirty horse-pond drinking unshaven black bastard Rustum Khan is outside listening!  You think ’e is busy at the fortifying?  Then I tell you, No, ’e is not!  ’E is outside listening!”

The surprising answer to that assertion was a heavy saber thrust between the window-frame and blind and descending on the thong.  Next followed Rustum Khan’s long boot.  Then came the man himself with dew all over his upbrushed beard, returning the saber to its scabbard with an accompanying apologetic motion of the head.

“Aye, I was listening!” He spoke as one unashamed.  “Umm Kulsum” (that was his fancy name for Maga) “spoke truth for once!  I came from the fortifying, where all is finished that can be done to-night.  I have been the rounds.  I have inspected everything.  I report all well.  On my way hither I saw Umm Kulsum, with that jackal trotting at her heel—­he made a scornful gesture in the direction of Peter Measel, who winced perceptibly, at which Fred Oakes chuckled and nudged me—­“and I followed Umm Kulsum, to observe what harm she might intend.”

“Black pig!” remarked Maga, but Rustum Khan merely turned his splendid back a trifle more toward her.  His color, allowing for the black beard, was hardly darker than hers.

“Why should I not listen, since my heart is in the matter?  Lord sahib—­Colonel sahib bahadur!—­take back those words before it is too late!  Undo the promise made to this Armenian!  What is he to thee?  Set me instead of thee, sahib!  What am I?  I have no wives, no lands any longer since the money-lenders closed their clutches on my eldest son, no hope, nor any fellowship with kings to lose!  But I can fight, as thou knowest!  Give me, sahib, to redeem thy promise, and go thou home to England!”

“Sit down, Rustum Khan!”

“But, sahib—­”

“Sit down!” Monty repeated.

“I will not see thee sacrificed for this tribe of ragged people, Colonel sahib!”

Monty rose to his feet slowly.  His face was an enigma.  The Rajput stood at attention facing him and they met each other’s eyes—­East facing West—­in such fashion that manhood seemed to fill the smoky room.  Every one was silent.  Even Maga held her breath.  Monty strode toward Rustum Khan; the Rajput was the first to speak.