"She is very glad that you and she are on the same errand." He
leaned forward for the sake of emphasis and laid a finger on King's
hand. It was a delicate, dainty finger with an almond nail. "She
is very glad. She is far more glad than you imagine, or than you
would believe. King sahib, she is all bucked up about it! Listen--
her web is wide! Her agents are here--there--everywhere, and she
is obeyed as few kings have ever been! Those agents shall all be
held answerable for your life, sahib,--for she has said so! They
are one and all your bodyguard, from now forward!"

King inclined his head politely, but the weight of the knife inside
his shirt did not encourage credulity. True, it might not be Yasmini's
knife, and the Rangar's emphatic assurance might not be an
unintentional admission that the man who had tried to use it was
Yasmini's man. But when a man has formed the habit of deduction,
he deduces as he goes along, and is prone to believe what his
instinct tells him.

Again, it was as if the Rangar read a part of his thoughts, if not
all of them. It is not difficult to counter that trick, but to
do it a man must be on his guard, or the East will know what he
has thought and what he is going to think, as many have discovered
when it was too late.

"Her men are able to protect anybody's life from any God's number
of assassins, whatever may lead you to think the contrary. From
now forward your life is in her men's keeping!"

"Very good of her; I'm sure," King murmured. He was thinking of