Barlow had waited until the decoit would have gone before showing the
papers that were in his pocket because it was an advantage that the
enemy should think them lost. He was checked now as he put a hand in
his pocket to produce them by the entrance of Elizabeth, and he fancied
there was a sneer on her thin lips.

"Father," she said, as she leaned against the desk, one hand on its
teak-wood top, "I've been listening to the handsome leader of thieves;
I couldn't help hearing him. I fancy that Captain Barlow could tell
you just where this woman, the Gulab, who is as beautiful as the moon,
is. I'm sure he could bring her here--if he _would_."

The Captain's fingers unclasped from the papers in his pocket, and now
were beating a tattoo on his knee.

"Elizabeth!" the father gasped, "do you know what you are saying?" His
cold grey eyes were wide with astonishment. "Did you hear all of Ajeet
Singh's story?"

"Yes, all of it."

"It's your friend, Nana Sahib, whom you treat as if he were an
Englishman and to be trusted, that knows where this woman is,
Elizabeth."

A cynical laugh issued from the girl's lips that were so like her
father's in their unsympathetic contour: "Yes, one may trust men, but a
woman's eyes are given her to prevent disaster from this trust which is
so natural to the deceivable sex."