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Authors: Juliet Armstrong

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“There was a life to save, Roger
!”

“I know, and one half of me is all admiration for your courage and skill, but when I think of what might have happened to you...
!”

“I never had anything to fear from Chawand Rao—if that is what you mean, Roger.”

“My dear, you don

t understand the Oriental mind. Do you know why I

ve come now to fetch you away?”

She looked bewildered. “Now! Do you mean that you expect me to leave with you this very morning? Why, Roger, it

s impossible!”

“Is the prince out of danger?” Well she knew those brief, incisive questions of his.

“Yes, but he still needs care and attention.”

“Then his own people must give it to him. I

m going to tell you what brought me tearing over here like this. It

s a message Hussein sent secretly to me. He swears that he heard His Highness declare that he was going to do his best to keep you here—for good
!”

“There must be some mistake!” Stella

s tone was incredulous. And then, suddenly recalling Jeythoo

s hint given that very morning, she paled a little. Could it be that she was wrong in her estimate of Chawand Rao? Must she believe that far from being the
i
dealist she had supposed, he was a schemer and sensualist? Her mind flew over the incidents that had colored the last few days, and she could find no support for this base view of His Highness. And she repeated again, with even more conviction. “I

m sure there is some mistake. I simply can

t believe it.”

The curtain moved then; and Armand
c
ame in with a muttered, “Excuse me!” And at once Roger turned to him.

“I

ve been trying to convince Miss Hantley she shouldn

t stay here another day,” he exclaimed. “She I won

t listen to me; maybe she

s got more
faith in you. Anyway, you

d better tell her frankly whether you think I ought to take her away this morning or leave her here a day or two longer.”

“I
think you ought to go with Fendish, Stella,” Armand

s gentleness was in striking contrast to Roger

s brusque manner. “There are rumors going around the palace and it wouldn

t be wise for you
to stay.”

Stella made a helpless
lit
tle gesture. “In that case I suppose I

d better pack up and come away. I shall have to make some sort of apology to His Highness—”

“I

m afraid you won

t be able to do that.” Armand was looking a little troubled. “He

s out shooting sand grouse
and
won

t be back until about four o

clock!”

“So much the better for Miss Hantley. It will save her an embarrassing interview. Now, Stella, how soon can you be ready?” His impatience to get her out of the palace would have been ludicrous, had there not been such a serious side lo it.

Stella reflected quickly. “In about twenty minutes,” she said. “I must leave a note for His Highness—and by the way—” and she gave each of them a steady look “—I shall
g
ive Miss Jellings

s urgent need of me as my excuse for leaving so suddenly.”

Even Roger did not protest at this. He said more calmly, “I

ll wait for you here, and the minute you

re ready we

ll make a start. I

ve brought s
o
me sandwiches for our lunch. We can eat them going along.”

“Very
well!” Not knowing whether to be pleased or vexed at being hurried away in this unceremonious fashion, she went back to the women

s quarters, and half an hour later was climbing into the seat beside Roger and setting out with him on the long, rough road to Ghasirabad.

 

CHAPTER
EIGHT

To her relief t
he drive afforded no opportunities for intimate conversation. Not only was the presence of Hussein in the back seat of the car a deterrent, but the constant jolting made it difficult to exchange more than an occasional sentence. She felt certain, however, from his manner that so far Allegra had not
told him that Stella Hantley and Star Lefreyne were one
and the same person, and wondered feverishly what the other girl

s plans—and motives—might be.

If only Jelly and I could go on to Rajdor without meeting Allegra!
she thought desperately.
It would be much the easiest way out of the tangle.
Yet the prospect of parting with Roger—in the determination never to see him again—
w
as such torment it seemed as though her heart was being to
rn
in pieces; and she knew that as long as she
lived the
wounds
would never completely heal.

Why was fate so cruel, she wondered. Why could she not have fallen for Armand Verle? He was attractive enough, in all conscience. Why should it be this big taciturn man with the hot temper and quick pride who should have won her love—this man who was barred from her, so far as marriage was concerned, by the haunting figure of Allegra Glydd?

The first personal remark he addressed to her was made as he set her down, bruised and weary, at the Ghasirabad rest house.

“The last talk we had—the day you went to Bhindi

ended in a quarrel,” he observed, a note of appeal in his voice. “Let

s get together again soon, Stella. It

s absurd that you and I—of all people in the world—should do nothing but squabble.

“I know!” The words forced themselves out almost
a
gainst her will.

His expression lightened. “And meanwhile, what about
you and Miss Jellings—if she

s well enough—coming along to dinner tonight? I want you both to meet Jim and his girl of his. Her aunt and uncle, by the way, have gone on to friends in Ajmer.”

“I

ll ask Miss Jellings and let you know,” Stella stammered—resolved that whatever happened the answer should be a polite negative—and with an incoherent murmur of thanks to him for bringing her back to Ghasirabad and a brief goodbye, she turned swiftly and went into the rest house. She knew that she was being discourteous in leaving him like this—that he would expect to be invited to come in, if only for a few minutes. But she knew also that she dared not stay in his company a moment longer without the risk of bursting into tears—and sobbing out the whole sordid story.

Jelly

s delight at seeing her made her shelve her troubles for the moment; indeed, her thoughts were sent sharply in another direction. Although the old woman protested gallantly that she was feeling “no

so bad,” Stella was shocked at her looks. Certainly in making Miss Jellings

s health her excuse for leaving Bhindi Palace so hurriedly, she had not overstepped the bounds of truth. It was more than time she came back to look after her.

For a while Jelly displayed a spurious vivacity in her eagerness to hear every detail of Stella

s, life in the notorious palace, but before long her energies flagged and she was ready to take a long siesta—and also to concur with Stella in the impossibility of accepting Roger

s invitation for dinner that evening.

“But there is no reason at all why you shouldn

t go, my dear,” she added. “I don

t much take to Roger

s future sister-in-law myself, but I daresay you

ll get on with her well enough. Roger brought her in to see me a day or two ago, and she seemed most anxious to make your acquaintance.”

Stella felt herself paling and turned quickly a
w
ay. “I

m pretty tired myself,” she declared. “It would suit me much better to have an early dinner with you and a nice long night of rest.”

“Very well, dear. Send a note along right away.” The old lady

s eyelids were already beginning to droop drowsily. “But mind you make the refusal charming. That Roger
of yours is a sensitive creature, in spite of that rough ex
t
erior, and I

m too grateful to him for bringing you back like this, to allow
him to have his feelings hurt.”

Whether the
polite little note that Stella dispatched
shortly afterward to Roger would have satisfied Jelly

s idea is doubtful, but by that time she was fast asleep. And before long Stella also went to lie down.

She felt
sure
that she would not sleep, that her brain was too excited
.
But within half an hour she had dropped off into a
light
lumber from which she was awakened by the subconscious feeling that, there was someone else in the room.

It

s
the old rani,
she thought, imagining for the moment that s
h
e was still at Bhindi, then opening her eyes realized suddenly that she was back in her room at the Ghasirabad
re
st house, and that the intruder who had aroused her was none other than the girl on whom her thoughts had been centered with such intensity during the past few weeks

Allegra Glydd.

“Excuse me for butting in like this.” Allegra, cool as
ever and looking extremely ornamental in a plain but beautifully cut dress of lettuce-green silk, walked to the end of
;
the bed and stood looking down at Stella. “No one was around, so I just slipped in. I thought we

d better have a word together in private—before we meet in public, as I supposed we must.

“Oh, yes?” Deliberately Stella resolved to lay the burden of the conversation on Allegra. It was she, after all, who had sought this interview.

Just for a moment Allegra was taken aback by Stella

s apparent nonchalance: But she quickly recovered her poise and inquired lightly whether there was a cigarette around. She had left her case, she said, in her other handbag.

Stella felt a flicker of
ironic amusement at the request. I
n one respect, anyway, Allegra had not changed: she still had the scrounging habit. She nodded in the direction of the cumbersome teak chest of drawers that served as her dressing table, then watched the other girl stroll over to the shagreen box that lay there and abstract a cigarette. Observing her graceful, unhurried movements Stella

s amusement died away, and instead there came a stirring of the old anger. Child of a hard-up but aristocratic family,
Allegra had not been forced to take up arduous, uncongenial work on leaving the stage. Family friends and relatives had no doubt smoothed her path and made a pleasant existence possible, for leisure and an easy life set their stamp on a person as plainly as physical labor.

Anyone might guess,
she thought bitterly,
that dancing is the only hard work Allegra has ever undertaken: she

s as light on her feet as ever and buoyant as a feather. But no one, meeting me, would ever imagine I, had been anything but a drudge.

An instant later she was ashamed of that reflection, knowing well that she should feel nothing but pride in the profession that had sheltered her and kept her during, the past five years; and she was ashamed, too, of the sense of smoldering rage that Allegra evoked in her. It was impertinent of the girl to invade her privacy in this fashion; but perhaps that insolence hid better feelings. At any rate she should hear what Allegra had to say before passing judgment on her.

A brief minute, or two, however, made it clear that Allegra was even more unscrupulous and more brazen than she had been five years ago. She perched herself on the arm of a nearby chair, blew a succession of smoke rings and then declared blandly, “Star, my dear, there

s got to be a showdown. There

s only room for one of us in the Fendish family, and that one is yours truly.”

“And what precisely do you mean by that?” Stella

s tone was level.

“That I am going to marry Jim Fendish, and that you are
not
going to marry Roger. As a sister-in-law you would be—well, inconvenient.”

With a strenuous effort at concealing her sick disgust and fury, Stella raised her eyebrows. “Your imagination seems as vivid as ever, Allegra. I

ve no intention of choosing a husband from the Fendish family. I can assure you that the idea of our being in any way connected
i
s as distasteful to me as it can possibly be to you. Though of course—” and she met Allegra

s brown eyes “—it

s always a shade worse for the wrongdoer, in these cases, than for the innocent one.”

Allegra

s glance wavered, but she threw back her sleek brown head and gave a little ripple of laughter.

“That sort of moral maxim is a bit out-of-date,” she observed. “When people talk about
the pangs of con
science they usually mean the fear of being found out.”

“And you

ve no qualms on that score?”

“Hardly, my dear. You see, I

ve got it all taped out. If you were to go to Roger with your version
of ...
of
that incident of five years ago, the dear old dunderhead might believe you—if, as they say, he

s beginning to fall for you. But I think it would give even his loyalty a jolt to hear that amusing little story that

s leaked out from Bhindi—of the old rani

s emeralds actually being traced to your suitcase.”

She blew another series of smoke rings. “I must confess I was staggered myself when I heard the rumor.”

“I suppose you thought it was just an amazing coincidence.” It seemed miraculous to Stella that she should be able to keep her temper so firmly under control. It hardly seemed her own voice that was speaking. And then she added, raising herself a little higher on the cushions, “But it wasn

t that at all, Allegra!”


What do you mean
?”
Off her guard for a second,
Allegra rapped out the question.

Stella shrugged her shoulders. “My dear Allegra, you
can

t expect me to hand you out information that might be of value to you. No one holds all the cards, all the time.”

“You

re bluffing, of course!” Allegra tried to sound convinced but did not altogether succeed.

“By no means. As I

ve said before, there is no need for any sort of a showdown because I

ve no intention of marrying Roger Fendish—or anyone else, for that matter. Miss Jellings and I will be leaving Ghasirabad very soon—and passing out of the lives of the Fendish family for good and all.”

A sound that might have been a sob, might have been a sigh, broke from Allegra, betraying a sudden loosening of nervous tension. But almost instantly she tautened again.

“I don

t know that I believe you,” she said venomously. “If I make up my mind to lie low and say nothing, you I may well steal a march on me—and hand Roger your version of a certain matter.”

“Don

t judge me by your own rotten standards, please.” Stella spoke with biting contempt.

“Still on that moral uplift tack!” Allegra got up and
w
retched herself deliberately like a small, sleek kitten. "Well, Star—or perhaps I

d better begin to
practice calling you Miss Hantley—I shall say nothing to Roger or Jim for the moment. But if you double-cross me and start spilling any sort of a story to either of them, I won

t hesitate to retaliate. And you know as well as I do that even if I don

t, as you said just now, hold all the cards, I certainly hold
t
hat invaluable
article—the odd trick.” And stubbing out her cigarette wit
h
the heel of her smart green leather shoe, she picked up her handbag and slipped out of the room as silently as she had entered it a quarter of an hour before.

BOOK: Nurse in India
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