'Voice,' and finally made me a free gift of a nice little bronze box
that wouldn't open. After which he took to his heels, saying he'd call
later for my answer--whatever he meant by that. He did call by night
and stole the box. That's about all I know of him, thus far. But I'd
watch out for him, if I were you; if he isn't a raving lunatic, I miss
my guess."

"Indeed, my lord, it is all quite as the sahib says," the babu admitted
graciously, his eyes gleaming with sardonic amusement. "Circumstances
conspired to mislead me; but that I was swift to discover. Nor did I
lose time in remedying the error, as you have heard. Moreover--"

He shut up suddenly at a sign from Rutton, with a ludicrous shrug of
his huge shoulders disclaiming any ill-intent or wrong-doing; and while
Rutton remained deep in thought by the table, the babu held silence,
his gaze flickering suspiciously round the room, searching the shadows,
questioning the closed door behind which Doggott lay asleep (evidence
of which fact was not wanting in his snores), resting fleetingly on
Amber's face, returning to Rutton. His features were composed; his
face, indeed, might have been taken as a model for some weird mask of
unctuous depravity, but for his eyes, which betrayed a score of
differing phases of emotion. He was by turns apparently possessed by
fear, malice, distrust, a subtle sense of triumph, contempt for Amber,
deference to Rutton, and a feeling that he was master not alone of the
situation but of the man whom he professed to honor so extravagantly.

At length Rutton looked up, suppressing a sigh. "Your errand, babu?"

"Is it, then, your will that I should speak before this man?" The
Bengali nodded impudently at Amber.