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Page 67
He was standing with one arm closely clasped about the apparently
exhausted woman, and her dark eyes were fixed upon him with
an extraordinary expression.
"What does it mean, Smith?" I began.
But he interrupted me.
"Where is the dacoit?" he demanded rapidly.
"Since he seemingly possesses the attributes of a fish,"
I replied, "I cannot pretend to say."
The gypsy woman lifted her eyes to mine and laughed.
Her laughter was musical, not that of such an old hag as Smith
held captive; it was familiar, too.
I started and looked closely into the wizened face.
"He's tricked you," said Smith, an angry note in his voice.
"What is that you have in your hand?"
I showed him the knife, and told him how it had come into my possession.
"I know," he rapped. "I saw it. He was in the water not
three yards from where you stood. You must have seen him.
Was there nothing visible?"
"Nothing."
The woman laughed again, and again I wondered.
"A wild-fowl," I added; "nothing else."
"A wild-fowl," snapped Smith. "If you will consult your
recollections of the habits of wild-fowl you will see
that this particular specimen was a RARA AVIS. It's an
old trick, Petrie, but a good one, for it is used in decoying.
A dacoit's head was concealed in that wild-fowl! It's useless.
He has certainly made good his escape by now."
"Smith," I said, somewhat crestfallen, "why are you detaining
this gypsy woman?"
"Gypsy woman!" he laughed, hugging her tightly as she made
an impatient movement. "Use your eyes, old man."
He jerked the frowsy wig from her head, and beneath was a cloud
of disordered hair that shimmered in the sunlight.
"A wet sponge will do the rest," he said.
Into my eyes, widely opened in wonder, looked the dark eyes
of the captive; and beneath the disguise I picked out the charming
features of the slave girl. There were tears on the whitened lashes,
and she was submissive now.
"This time," said my friend hardly, "we have fairly captured her--
and we will hold her."
From somewhere up-stream came a faint call.
"The dacoit!"
Nayland Smith's lean body straightened; he stood alert, strung up.
Another call answered, and a third responded.
Then followed the flatly shrill note of a police whistle,
and I noted a column of black vapor rising beyond the wall,
mounting straight to heaven as the smoke of a welcome offering.
The surrounded mansion was in flames!
"Curse it!" rapped Smith. "So this time we were right. But, of course,
he has had ample opportunity to remove his effects. I knew that.
The man's daring is incredible. He has given himself till the very
last moment--and we blundered upon two of the outposts."
"I lost one."
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