‘Half an hour, that’s all, then we must get back to our specimens!’

With dignity Bahadur replied, ‘Certainly I will allow you to confer with the Commander, Miss Macarthur. I will return shortly as I wish to speak with him myself. Meanwhile I will go with Jaswant.’ He glanced at the forester patiently standing by. ‘Jaswant is our animal collector, Commander,’ Bahadur explained. ‘And he reports a hatch of kraits in the locality. I have never seen one. I should like to see one.’

He preceded Jaswant out of the room.

‘Ah!’ said Lizzie flatly. ‘Growing up, you see! Growing into his new position. Quite right too. Twelve years old now. That’s a man by Rajput reckoning.’

‘Lizzie! Didn’t the boy mention a krait?’ said Joe, alarmed. ‘I don’t know much but I do know that’s the most dangerous snake in India! Is this safe? I mean, ought you to let him . . .’

Lizzie smiled. ‘Don’t concern yourself, Joe! He’s perfectly safe with Jaswant. He’s a local man from the hills – a tribal, as some would have it – and no one knows the region better than he does. The two of us have practically raised that boy by ourselves with the occasional spurt of interest from his father or his mother. Jaswant won’t let him run into danger. He’d give his life for him.’

‘Like the Rajput nanny I heard about?’ suggested Joe.

‘Oh, that dreadful old story! Well, I’ve never had a child of my own so I suppose I can’t reliably comment but, yes, I too would go a long way to protect Bahadur. I’ve known him since the day he was born.’ Her eyes clouded but she went on crisply, ‘But then, he’s grown now and rather eager that we should all acknowledge the fact. So be warned, Commander! Though, I think you possibly got there before I did,’ she said with a sly sideways look.

She picked up the discarded apron, folded it and put it away then offered him a seat on a battered old sofa and while he settled himself, poured out glasses of whisky, Talisker, he noticed, casting a quick glance at the label. He had been about to refuse the customary whisky-soda pleading a surfeit of hock at lunch time but there was no refusing neat Talisker in a Waterford glass.

‘Slàinte mhath,’ she said, using the Gaelic toast.

‘Slàinte,’ he replied. He admired the pale liquid gold before taking a reverential sip. ‘Does this transport you to the shadow of the Black Cuillins of Skye, Lizzie?’ he asked.

‘Not really,’ she said prosaically. ‘Dashed good malt, though, don’t you think?’

‘The best! No expense spared, it would seem, in Ranipur?’ he ventured.

‘I’m afraid so, Joe. And it goes against all my frugal Scottish instincts. Excess, extravagance – can’t be doing with it. Apart from this indulgence, of course! And when you consider the poverty that exists side by side with the riches of this vast country, it does raise your hackles. I’m sure people will have spoken to you about the poverty, Joe? Europeans are full of advice, aren’t they? “. . .Well, of course, you just have to ignore it. Give it six months, old boy, and you won’t even be seeing it any more. Beggars? What beggars?” Idiots! Anyone with a heart goes on seeing it!’

She paused for a moment, her flash of anger dissipating. ‘In fairness, I should say that Ranipur is rather exceptional. Udai is an example to all. He’s put a good deal of his resources into schemes to improve life for the common man, and there are no stories of reprehensible excess linked with his name. You must have heard the sort of thing . . . you know . . . a conversation overheard between two maharajas – “So difficult to decide with what to fill one’s swimming pool! Champagne, obviously, but should it be brut or sec?”’

She laughed. ‘Not sure that’s true but it just could be.’

‘I had heard that the Ranipur welcome for the Prince of Wales last year was somewhat lavish?’ said Joe tentatively.

‘It had to be! There was a lot riding on it. Prestige, face . . . whatever you like to call it. Each prince trying to outdo the rest in the lavishness of his hospitality . . . Magnificence and spectacle were heaped before Edward Windsor. I only hope he appreciated it,’ she sniffed disrespectfully. ‘And, yes, you’re right – Udai had electricity installed and by that I mean from the generators upwards, culminating in rows and rows of fairy lights, if you please, outlining the palace. But they had the sense to offer the royal tourist sporting distractions as well – you know – pig sticking, duck shooting, camel racing.’

‘No chess?’

‘No. No chess! A huge outlay, all the same, for a two-day visit. Though nothing like the sixty thousand pounds they spent in Bharatpur on a single night-pageant. I have to say, Udai did well. Even I was stirred by the sight of the youthful British prince (for so he appeared to me) being carried by six stalwart Rajputs to the banqueting hall in a ceremonial chair, his fair hair lit up by the golden glow of thousands of oil lamps and bonfires and the palace outlined in silver light behind him.’

‘Hold hard now, Lizzie!’ Joe teased, putting on a Scottish voice. ‘Tha’s no a Stuart ye’re talkin’ aboot!’

‘No indeed. And I’m no admirer of the House of Windsor! But the lad made a good impression all the same. Even though it has left India counting the cost.’

She looked at him closely for a moment and said shrewdly, ‘You’ve already begun your inquisition, haven’t you? Well, I wonder what I’ve given away? Is there any other light I can shine on your problem?’

Joe laughed. ‘Just talk to me, Lizzie! I’m fumbling around in the dark. Be my torch!’

‘And here we all were, hoping the detective was going to tap Ajit Singh on the shoulder and have him consigned to his own deepest dungeon awaiting transport to the gallows in Delhi!’

‘Not the way it works, Lizzie. Even if I could find out for certain that Ajit Singh had killed off the two heirs, I have no powers to do anything about it. If he came to me with a signed confession in several languages I’d merely be able to comment, “How interesting. Now don’t do it again or HM Gov. will start to get a bit hot under the collar.”’

‘Pity! We’d all like to see the back of him. The sooner he’s replaced by that nice young lieutenant, the better!’

‘But if he’s involved at all, he’s only the instrument, Lizzie. It’s highly likely Ajit’s behind the killings. But who’s behind Ajit?’

‘Oh, anyone with influence or cash,’ said Lizzie thoughtfully. ‘He’d take a bribe. He’s been known – well, strongly rumoured – to have performed many services for the ladies of the zenana. A useful extension of their power.’

‘But what about a European, of either sex, requiring to whistle up a little skulduggery? Suppose for instance you needed someone to push old Edgar off a cliff?’

‘Huh! That’s a job I’d gladly do myself! Why give someone else the satisfaction? And – believe me, Joe – no one, not even you would find out that I’d done it. But yes . . . yes. I think I could make it worth Ajit’s while to oblige . . . What about it, Joe? Shall we?’

He smiled at Lizzie’s attempt to lighten the discussion and seized the moment to invite her to indulge with him in a little gossip and speculation.

‘Delighted to do that,’ she said, pouring out another generous measure of whisky.

Feeling rather foolish he asked, ‘Have you had a visit from a Parisian perfume house recently, here in Ranipur?’

Lizzie frowned and smiled uncertainly at the same time, assessing the seriousness of his question. ‘No,’ she replied decisively. ‘Jewellers, grocers, couturiers, purveyors of tinned soup, tobacconists, candlestick makers . . . No perfumiers. There are always attar-wallahs selling their wares to the purdah ladies but I don’t think that’s what you have in mind, is it? Why are you asking?’

Joe explained, pleased to see that Lizzie also was intrigued but unable to account for the shared taste in perfume of Lois and Third Her Highness.