Her energetic intervention had saved many a rouble from
dissipating itself in tips in some Moscow hotel, and francs and
centimes clung to her instinctively under circumstances which
would have driven them headlong from less sympathetic hands. Her
speculations as to the market depreciation of tiger remnants were
cut short by the appearance on the scene of the animal itself. As
soon as it caught sight of the tethered goat it lay flat on the
earth, seemingly less from a desire to take advantage of all
available cover than for the purpose of snatching a short rest
before commencing the grand attack.

"I believe it's ill," said Louisa Mebbin, loudly in Hindustani,
for the benefit of the village headman, who was in ambush in a
neighbouring tree.

"Hush!" said Mrs. Packletide, and at that moment the tiger
commenced ambling towards his victim.

"Now, now!" urged Miss Mebbin with some excitement; "if he doesn't
touch the goat we needn't pay for it." (The bait was an extra.)

The rifle flashed out with a loud report, and the great tawny
beast sprang to one side and then rolled over in the stillness of
death. In a moment a crowd of excited natives had swarmed on to
the scene, and their shouting speedily carried the glad news to
the village, where a thumping of tom-toms took up the chorus of
triumph. And their triumph and rejoicing found a ready echo in
the heart of Mrs. Packletide; already that luncheon-party in
Curzon Street seemed immeasurably nearer.