For some reason that she could never have set out in words Virginia
was distinctly disappointed. It was no part of her desire to see the
conflict blaze up in violence, but it nettled her to see Winton give
up so easily. Some such thought as this had possession of her while
the marshal and his prisoner were picking their way across the ice,
and she was hoping that Winton would give her a chance to requite him,
if only with a look.

But it was Town-Marshal Peter Biggin, affectionately known to his
constituents as "Bigginjin Pete," who gave her the coveted
opportunity. Instead of disappearing decently with his captive, the
marshal made the mistake of his life by marching Winton up the track
to the private car, thrusting him forward, and saying: "Here's yer
meat, Guv'nor. What-all 'ud ye like fer me to do with hit now I've
got it?"

Now it is safe to assume that the Rajah had no intention of appearing
thus openly as the instigator of Winton's arrest. Hence, if a fierce
scowl and a wordless oath could maim, it is to be feared that the
overzealous Mr. Biggin would have been physically disqualified on the
spot. As it was, Mr. Darrah's ebullient wrath could find no adequate
speech forms, and in the eloquent little pause Winton had time to
smile up at Miss Carteret and to wish her the pleasantest of
good-mornings.

But the Rajah's handicap was not permanent.

"Confound you, seh!" he exploded. "I'm not a justice of the peace! If
you've made an arrest, you must have had a warrant for it, and you