things over her near shoulder at the Tertium Quid.

He was smiling, but, while she looked, the smile froze stiff as it
were on his face, and changed to a nervous grin the sort of grin
men wear when they are not quite easy in their saddles. The mare
seemed to be sinking by the stern, and her nostrils cracked while
she was trying to realise what was happening. The rain of the night
before had rotted the drop-side of the Himalayan-Thibet Road, and
it was giving way under her. 'What are you doing?' said the Man's
Wife. The Tertium Quid gave no answer. He grinned nervously
and set his spurs into the mare, who rapped with her forefeet on
the road, and the struggle began. The Man's Wife screamed, 'Oh,
Frank, get off!'

But the Tertium Quid was glued to the saddle his face blue and
white and he looked into the Man's Wife's eyes. Then the Man's
Wife clutched at the mare's head and caught her by the nose
instead of the bridle. The brute threw up her head and went down
with a scream, the Tertium Quid upon her, and the nervous grin
still set on his face.

The Man's Wife heard the tinkle-tinkle of little stones and loose
earth falling off the roadway, and the sliding roar of the man and
horse going down. Then everything was quiet, and she called on
Frank to leave his mare and walk up. But Frank did not answer. He
was underneath the mare, nine hundred feet below, spoiling a
patch of Indian corn.

As the revellers came back from Viceregal Lodge in the mists of
the evening, they met a temporarily insane woman, on a