"Thank you," replied Zara el-Khala with great composure. "But my
servant is here."
As I turned, Chunda Lal hurled himself upon the Grand Duke from behind.
I had never seen an expression in a man's eyes like that in the eyes
of the Hindu at this moment. They blazed like the eyes of a tiger, and
his teeth were bared in a savage grin which I cannot hope to describe.
His lean body seemed to shoot through the air, and he descended upon
his burly adversary as a jungle beast falls upon its prey. Those long
brown fingers clasping his neck, the Grand Duke fell forward upon his
face.
"Chunda Lal!" said the dancer.
Kneeling, his right knee thrust between the shoulder blades of the
prostrate man, the Hindu looked up--and I read murder in those glaring
eyes. That he was an accomplished wrestler--or perhaps a strangler--I
divined from the helplessness of the Grand Duke, who lay inert, robbed
of every power except that of his tongue. He was swearing savagely.
"Chunda Lal!" said Zara el-Khala again.
The Hindu shifted his grip from the neck to the arms of the Grand
Duke. He pinioned him as is done in _jiu-jitsu_ and forced him to
stand upright. It was a curious spectacle--the impotency of this burly
nobleman in the hands of his slight adversary. As they swayed to their
feet, I thought I saw the glint of metal in the right hand of the
Indian, but I could not be sure, for my attention was diverted. At
this moment Casimir appeared upon the scene, looking very frightened.
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