The men exchanged
questioning glances, to which no one had an answer.
"That's just the way," Beatrice heard some one behind her say. "We
dance on the crust of a volcano or under a threatening avalanche.
Sooner or later the one gives way or the other falls. There is no real
safety from these devils."
Meanwhile Nehal Singh had approached the wreckage and was examining
the crown, to which a piece of gilded rope and chain were still
attached. One or two of the men were engaged in stamping out the
candles, which still sputtered feebly on the floor. The rest stood
about uncomfortably, hypnotized by an indefinable alarm.
"I fear you did not dream, Miss Caruthers," the Rajah said at last.
"The rope has been cut--the chain unlinked. Some wicked harm was
intended to us all."
"Not to us all," Stafford observed coolly. "I think you will admit,
Rajah, that whoever the murderer was, he would have chosen a more
advantageous moment if he had intended general damage. My life was the
one aimed at, and I am all the more convinced that I am right, because
this is the third time within twenty-four hours that I have escaped by
a miracle from accidents which were not accidental."
The Rajah started sharply around.
"How?--what do you mean?" he demanded.
"Yesterday my boat on the river was plugged. To-day a native tried to
frighten my horse over the ravine. This"--pointing to the
chandelier--"is the third attempt.
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