“No.”

“Ninety-eight, them Tom!”

“Your Ladyship?”

“Weren’t there some English officers?”

“Two.  A captain and a subaltern.  They left late this afternoon.”

“Making?” said Yasmini.

“Exactly a hundred,” answered Tess.

“Let us go now,” said Yasmini.  “We must be up at dawn for the great day.  I shall expect you very early, remember.  Tom!  You may ride back with us.  His highness will mount the guard in person.  You’re to come to my palace.  I’ve a present waiting for you.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

It is better to celebrate the occasion than to annoy the gods with pretended virtue and too many promises. —­Eastern Proverb

Three amber moons in a purple sky.

The day of the great inauguration ceremony dawned inauspiciously for somebody.  For one thing, the blasting powder laid ready by the sappers under the pipal trees for explosion the day following, blew up prematurely.  Some idiot had left a kerosene lamp burning in the dug-out, probably, and a rat upset it; or some other of the million possibilities took place.  Nobody was killed, but a dozen pipal trees were blown to smithereens, and the ghastly fact laid bare for all to see that in the irregular chasm that remained there was not a symptom of the treasure—­as Samson was immediately notified.

So Samson had to attend the ceremony with that disconcerting knowledge up his sleeve.  But that was not all.  The night signaler, going off duty, had brought him a telegram from the high commissioner to say that all available military bands were to be lent for the day to the maharajah, and that as many British officers as possible, of all ranks, were to take part in the procession to grace it with official sanctity.

That was especially aggravating because it had reached his ears that the Princess Yasmini intended to ride veiled in the procession, and to sit beside her husband in the durbar hall unveiled.  He was therefore going to be obliged to recognize her more or less officially as consort of the reigning prince.  Simla did not realize that, of course; but it was too late to wire for different instructions.  He had a grim foreboding that he himself would catch it later on when the facts leaked out, as they were bound to do.

(It was babu Sita Ram who “caught it” first, though.  Within two days Samson discovered that Sita Ram had been sending official telegrams in code on his own account, very cleverly designed to cause the high commissioner to give those last minute instructions.  It was obvious that a keener wit than the babu’s had inspired him; but, though he was brow-beaten for an hour he did not implicate Yasmini.  And after he had been dismissed from the service with ignominy she engaged him as a sort of secretary, at the same pay.)