It was growing late and the remaining dances were few, when a native orderly entered the room and stepped up to Colonel Bradlaw, who was standing with Sir Reginald. He murmured a few low words to which the Colonel listened with a frown. It was his habit to frown always at the unexpected.

He turned after a moment to Sir Reginald. "There's a messenger arrived from the Palace with a box of sweets or something. What?" breaking off ferociously as the orderly's lips moved soundlessly.

"Moonstones, _sahib_," murmured the orderly with deference.

"Moonstones," repeated the Colonel, in a tone of vast contempt, "to be presented to the lady wearing the best make-up in the room. What on earth am I to do, sir?"

"Accept with thanks, I should say," said Sir Reginald, with a smile.

"Oh, I don't mean that," said the Colonel, frowning still more. "But who the d.i.c.kens is going to decide as to the merits of the ladies' costumes?

Not I--and not my wife! It's too big a responsibility--that."

Sir Reginald laughed. "That is a serious consideration, certainly. I should make them decide themselves. Vote by ballot. That ought to satisfy everyone."

The Colonel turned to the waiting orderly. "Very well. Tell the messenger to come in!" He made a sign to Noel, who had just ceased to dance, that brought the young man to his side.

"Look here, Wyndham! You organized this show, so you may as well take on this job. The Rajah has sent a prize for the lady wearing the best costume."

Noel frowned also at the news. "Confound him! What for, sir?"

"Oh, I suppose he wants to make himself popular," said the Colonel, still mightily contemptuous. "We can't refuse it anyway. Arrange for the ladies to vote by ballot, will you? They will probably all vote for themselves," he added to Sir Reginald. "But that's a detail. And I say, Noel, get a table from somewhere, will you? It's your show, not mine."

Noel smiled upon his commanding-officer, an impudent, affectionate smile. He and Badgers were close allies. "Very good, sir, I'll see to it," he said, and departed.

Under his directions a table was brought in and placed at the end of the room. The dancing was stopped temporarily, and the dancers lined up against the walls. Noel, armed with a sheaf of note-paper went the round, tearing off slips and distributing them as he went.

While this was in progress, the Rajah's messenger was admitted and conducted to the table behind which stood Sir Reginald with Olga and Colonel Bradlaw. He was a very magnificent person, turbaned and glittering; he bore himself like the servant of an emperor. In his hands he carried with extreme care an ivory casket, exquisitely carved, with a lock of wrought Indian gold. The key, also of gold, lay on the top of the casket.

The gift was plainly a costly one, and every eye in the room followed it.

The messenger reached the table and bowed low. "With the compliments of His Highness the Rajah of Sharapura!" he said, and deposited the casket upon the table.

The Colonel glanced at Sir Reginald who at once responded. "Convey our thanks to the Rajah," he said, "and say that the gracious gift will be much appreciated! I shall give myself the pleasure of calling upon him to a.s.sure him of this in person to-morrow."

The messenger salaamed again deeply, and withdrew.

"I wish he'd keep his precious moonstones!" grumbled the Colonel. "They are more bother than they're worth. Hurry up, there, Noel! It's getting late."

"Just finished, sir," came Noel's cheery answer. "I must just get a hat to hold the ballot-papers."

He did not offer a paper to Olga, who still kept her place by Sir Reginald, her young face white and tired under the pile of fair, powdered hair.

"I think I shall go when this is over," she whispered to Sir Reginald.

"So you shall," he said kindly. "I will escort you myself. I expect we shall find Nick waiting for us," he added, with a smile. "Some business has delayed him, I have no doubt."

She tried to smile in answer, but her lips quivered in spite of her. She turned her face aside, ashamed of her weakness.

Noel came up with the ballot-papers, and emptied them out upon the table without a glance at her.

"I must get you to help," said Sir Reginald, drawing her gently forward.

"I can manage, sir," said Noel shortly.

But the Colonel broke in, "Nonsense, Wyndham! One scrutineer isn't enough."

And Noel pushed across a handful of papers to Olga without lifting his eyes.

With fingers that trembled slightly, she began to sort, a.s.sisted by Sir Reginald. Several of the papers bore her own name, a fact which at first she scarcely noticed, but which very soon became too conspicuous to be ignored.

"I believe it's yours," murmured Sir Reginald at her elbow.

"Oh, impossible!" she said, flushing.

But in a very few minutes the suspicion was verified. Noel looked up from his sorting with a brief, "You've won!"

Olga raised her eyes swiftly, but he instantly averted his, and turned to communicate the result to the Colonel.

The latter shook hands with her, and shouted the news in his loudest parade voice to the a.s.sembled company. There ensued applause and congratulations that Olga would gladly have foregone. Then, as her friends began to press round, Sir Reginald stepped forward.

"It is my proud privilege," he said, "to present to Miss Ratcliffe in the Rajah's name his very handsome gift."

He took the golden key from the top of the casket and handed it with a bow to Olga.

She took it with a murmur of thanks, and stood hesitating, possessed by a very curious feeling of dread.

"Open it!" said Noel impatiently.

"Open it for her!" said Sir Reginald, divining a certain amount of nervousness as the cause of her hesitation.

Noel held out a hand for the key, and she gave it to him. There was a sudden hush and a little thrill of expectation in the motley crowd gathered round as he turned to fit it into the lock.

The key did not fit in very easily; it seemed to meet with some obstruction. With a frown Noel pulled it out again. "What's the matter with the thing?" he said irritably.

"Try it the other way up!" suggested Sir Reginald.

"I believe it's a hoax," said a man in the crowd.

Noel turned the key upside down amid an interested silence, and began to insert it again in the lock.

As he did so, there came a sudden cry from the background, a man's voice shrill and warning.

"Leave the thing alone! It's a bomb! I tell you, it's a bomb!"

"What?" The crowd scattered backwards as though a thunderbolt had fallen in its midst, and a woman shrieked in panic.

A man--wild, unkempt, ragged--tore like a maniac over the polished floor, making for the group at the table, waving one skinny arm.

"Noel! You d.a.m.n' fool! Leave the thing alone!"