He stood
still as Stafford entered, and a flash of satisfaction passed over his
face.
"I'm glad you have come," he said. "Whatever is to be done must be
done at once. I suppose you know nothing?"
"Nothing," Stafford answered. "Your note was the first intimation I
have received that there was anything amiss."
Colonel Carmichael grunted angrily.
"Of course you know nothing," he said, resuming his restless march
about the room. "Nor did I--nor did any one. Heaven and earth, I'm
beginning to think there's something wrong in our theory that whatever
is going on under our noses must be too insignificant to be noticed!
There, Nicholson, hurry up and tell him what you know."
Nicholson stood upright, and folding the map put it in his pocket.
"I was in the New Bazaar last night," he began curtly. "I go there
regularly, as you know, disguised as one thing or another, just for
the sake of having a look at the people when they don't know they are
being watched. Last night there was no one there--not so much as a
child or a woman. The place was dead. I admit that I was not
particularly startled. I knew that there was a great festival at hand.
Pilgrims have been streaming in for days past, and it was quite
conceivable that some ceremony was taking place in the temple.
Curiosity fortunately led me to investigate further. Myself disguised
as a traveling fakir, I made my way to the Rajah's palace gates.
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