“Is there any one else who’d be dangerous if he possessed the secret?”

“Anybody would be, except myself.  Anybody else would begin playing for political control with it, and there’d be no more peace on this side of India for years.  And now, this is what I want to say:  The most dangerous individual who could possibly get that treasure would be the Princess Yasmini.  The difficulty of dealing with her is that she’s not above hiding behind purdah (the veil), where no male man can reach her.  There are several women here whom I might interest in keeping an eye on her—­ Tatum’s wife, and Miss Bent, and Miss O’Hara, and the Goole sisters—­ lots of ’em.  But they’d all talk.  And they’d all try to get influence for their male connections on the strength of being in the know.  But somehow, Theresa, you’re different.”

“Mrs. Blaine, please.”

“I know Tom Tripe thinks the world of you.  I want you to find out for me from him everything he knows about this treasure intrigue and whatever’s behind it.”

“You think he’d tell me?”

“Yes.  And I want you to make the acquaintance of the Princess Yasmini, and find out from her if you can what the letters are that she writes to Utirupa.  You’ll find the acquaintance interesting.”

Tess crumpled a folded letter in her left hand.

“If you could give me an introduction to the princess—­they say she’s difficult to see—­some sort of letter that would get me past the maharajah’s guards,” she answered.

“I can.  I will.  The girl’s a minor.  I’ve the right to appoint some one to visit her and make all proper inquiries.  I appoint you.”

“Give me a letter now and I’ll go tonight.”

He stopped as they turned at the end of the path, and wrote on a leaf of his pocket-book.  Behind his back Tess waved her secret letter to attract Tom Tripe’s notice, and nodded.

“There.” said Samson.  “That’s preliminary.  I’ll confirm it later by letter on official paper.  But nobody will dare question that.  If any one does, let me know immediately.”

“Thank you.”

“And now, Theresa—­”

“You forget.”

“I forget nothing.  I never forget!  You’ll be wondering what you are to get out of all this—­”

“I wonder if you’re capable of believing that nothing was further from my thoughts!”

“Don’t think I want all for nothing!  Don’t imagine my happiness—­my success could be complete without—­”

“Without a whisky and soda.  Come and have one.  I see my husband coming at last.”

“Damn!” muttered Samson under his breath.

She had expected her husband by the big gate, but he came through the little one, and she caught sight of him at once because through the corner of her eye she was watching some one else—­Umra the beggar.  Umra departed through the little gate thirty seconds before her husband entered it.