"And this,"--a string
of pearls, that as he laid it on the black velvet was like the tears of
angels,--"This for the fat pig of a Dewan to set his four wives at each
other's throats. Let not the others know of these, Sookdee, of these
that we have taken for the account."
Suddenly there was a clamour of voices, cries, the clang of swords, the
sharp crash of a shot, and the two jamadars, startled, eyes staring,
stood with ears cocked toward the tumult.
"Soldiers!" Sookdee gasped. His hand brushed Hunsa's bare arm as he
thrust it into the chest and brought it forth clasping jewels, which he
tied in a knot of his waistcloth. "Take you something, Hunsa, and lock
the box till we see," he said darting from the tent.
Hunsa filled a pocket of his brocaded Jacket, but he was looking for
the Akbar Lamp, the ruby. He lifted out a tray and ran his grimy hands
through the maze of gold and silver wrought ornaments below. His
fingers touched, at the very bottom, a bag of leather. He tore it
open, and a blaze of blood-red light glinted at him evilly where a ruby
caught the flame of the torch that Sookdee had thrown to the earth
floor as he fled.
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