had arrived
at her destination, which was unfortunately not in his immediate
vicinity. He crept stealthily along in the direction of the possible
anchorage, fighting his way through roots and undergrowth; it was all
of no use--a barrier of morass and elephant grass proved absolutely
impassable, so he turned back towards his camp, pausing now and then to
listen. He could make out voices--one in an authoritative key
summoning "Mung Li." Well, he had at least discovered something
definite--he was in the vicinity of smugglers. In a short time he
discovered something else; through a breach in the undergrowth he
caught a glimpse of a Burman leading a stout, grey pony carrying a
European saddle and--unless his eyes entirely deceived him--the animal
was Krauss's well-known weight carrier, "Dacoit."

Two evenings later, at the Gymkhana Club, Krauss lounged up to Shafto,
who happened to be looking on at a billiard match. Taking a cigar out
of his mouth he astonished him by saying:

"Well, so you had no luck after that tiger down the river!"

This was taking the bull by the horns indeed. "No," replied Shafto,
"but Stafford saw him and got a shot. He is there all right."

"Perhaps you will have another try?" suggested Krauss.

"Perhaps so--but not for some time."

"Too much work, eh? Gregory is doing a big trade just now."

"Pretty well," rejoined Shafto, who was secretly surprised that Krauss
should accost and talk to him in this way. Hitherto their acquaintance
had been slight and, when he had been to tea at "Heidelberg," the
master of the house was invariably absent.

"How is Mrs. Krauss? I hope she is better."

"No, she has been pretty bad the last few weeks--her niece is coming
home in a day or two and that will cheer her up." As he concluded he
gave Shafto a nod and a curious look and then, with a sort of
elephantine waddle, lounged away.

So far Shafto had never spoken of his _kubber_; even with the evidence
of his own eyes he shrank from suspecting anyone connected with Sophy
Leigh; but links were joined in spite of his reluctance to face facts.
How could Krauss have known that he had gone tiger shooting? Surely
the affairs of an insignificant fellow like himself never crossed the
mental horizon of such a big and busy person as Karl Krauss? There was
no doubt that the animal he had seen near Elephant Point bore a
suspicious resemblance to Krauss's weight-carrying grey pony! What was
"Dacoit" doin