"Are there any further questions?" he asked.
Goldberger pulled at his moustache impatiently.
"There are a lot of questions I'd like to ask," he said, "but I feel a
good deal as though I were questioning the Sphinx. Isn't it a little
queer that a Thug should be so particular about a few blood-stains?"
"I fear that you are doing Mahbub an injustice in your thoughts,"
Silva said, gravely. "You have heard certain tales of the Thugs,
perhaps--tales distorted and magnified and untrue. In the old days, as
worshippers of Kali, they did, sometimes, offer her a human sacrifice;
but that was long ago. To say a man is a Thug is not to say he is also
a murderer."
"It will take more than that to convict him, anyway," assented
Goldberger, quickly. "That is all for the present, professor." I bit
back a smile at the title which came so unconsciously from
Goldberger's lips.
Silva bowed and walked slowly away toward the house, Mahbub following
close behind. At a look from Simmonds, two of his men strolled after
the strange couple.
Goldberger stared musingly after them for a moment, then shook his
head impatiently, and turned back to the business in hand.
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