“Pouf!” laughed Yasmini.  “Samson sahib would make a nice clumsy accomplice!  He would send me to Calcutta, where I should be poisoned sooner or later for a certainty, because Gungadhura would send agents to attend to that.  They would wait months and months for their opportunity, and I can not always stay awake.  Meanwhile Samson sahib would claim praise from his government, and they would put some more initials at the end of his name, and promote him to a bigger district with more pay.  No!  Samson sahib shall have another district surely, but even he in his conceit will not consider it promotion!  There will not be room for Samson sahib in Sialpore when I am maharanee!”

“You maharanee?  It was you yourself who told me that Gungadhura has lots of children, who all stand between you and the throne.  Do you mean—?”

Again the bell-like laugh announced utter enjoyment of Tess’s bewilderment.

“No, I will kill nobody.  I will not even send snakes in a basket to Gungadhura.  That scorpion shall sting himself to death if he sees fit, with a ring of the fire of ridicule all about him and no friends to console him, and no hope—­nothing but disappointment and fear and rage!  I will kill nobody.  Yet I will be maharanee within the month!”

Suddenly she grew deadly serious, her young face darkening as the sky does when a quick cloud hides the sun.

“What is your husband’s contract with Gungadhura?  May he dig for gold anywhere?  He is digging now, isn’t he, close to the British fort on the ‘island’ in our territory—­that fort with the flagstaff on it that can be seen from Gungadhura’s roof?  He is wasting time!”

“He has found a little vein of gold,” said Tess, “that will likely lead to a bigger vein.”

“He is wasting time!  Sita Ram, who has a compass, and who knows all that goes on in Samson sahib’s office, sent me word that the little vein of gold runs nearly due north.  In another week at the rate the men are digging your husband will be under the fort.  That is English territory.  The English have nothing to do with Gungadhura’s contract.  They will take the gold your husband finds and give him nothing.  Then Samson sahib would be considered a most excellent commissioner and would surely get promotion!  Pouf!”

“Perhaps my husband can make a separate bargain with the English.”

“Pouf!  Samson sahib is an idiot, but he is not fool enough to give away what would be in his hands already!  I myself, hidden beneath your window, heard him give you clear warning on that point!  No, there must be another plan.  Your husband must dig elsewhere.”

“But, my dear, Gungadhura knows already that my husband has found a ‘leader.’  He is all worked up about it, and goes every day to watch the progress.”

“Surely—­knowing as well as I do that the vein is leading toward the fort.  He goes afterward to the priests, and prays that the vein of gold may turn another way and save him from bankruptcy!  Listen?  I speak truth!  I speak to you woman to woman—­womb to womb!  I will count myself accursed, and will let a cobra bite me if I tell you now one word that is not true!  Do you believe I am going to tell you the truth?”