"Thank you," he responded, with a hint of irony.
But she found it difficult to begin, and she could not hide it from him, for he was closely watching her.
He softened a little as he perceived this.
"Pray don't be agitated," he said. "I do not for a moment question that your reason for what you did was a good one. I am only asking you to tell me what it was."
"I know," she answered. "But it will make you angry, and that is why I hesitate."
"Can it matter to you whether I am angry or not?"
"I never offend any one if I can help it. I think it is a mistake. However, you have asked for it. What happened was this. It was when you left me to get some water. An old man, a native, came and spoke to me. Perhaps I was foolish to listen, but I could scarcely have done otherwise. And he told me--he told me that the accident to the dog-cart was not--not--" She paused, searching for a word.
"Genuine," suggested Fletcher very quietly.
She accepted the word. The narration was making her very nervous.
"Yes, genuine. He told me that the _saice_ had cracked the shaft beforehand, that there was no possibility of getting it repaired at Farabad, that he would have to return to Kundaghat and might not, probably would not, come back for us before the following morning."
Haltingly, rather breathlessly, the story came from her lips. It sounded monstrous as she uttered it. She could not look at Fletcher, but she knew that he was angry; something in the intense stillness of his attitude told her this.
"Please go on," he said, as she paused. "You undertook to tell me the whole truth, remember."
"He told me that the mare was frightened by a trick, that you chose the hill-road because it was lonely and difficult. He told me exactly what you would say when you came back. And--and you said it."
"And that decided you to play a trick upon me and escape?" questioned Fletcher. "Your friend's suggestion, I presume?"
His words fell with cold precision; they sounded as if they came through his teeth.
She assented almost inaudibly. He made her feel contemptible.
She made a final effort; there was that in his manner that frightened her.
"Afterwards, he gave a signal--it was the cry of a jay--for me to follow. And he led me over the hill to a stream where he waited for me. We crossed it together, and very soon after he pointed out the valley-road below us, and left me."