http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks06/0606341.txt
“Joan Angela came to India. That’s the prelude to anything whatever except common-place. I believe she is twenty-six. I will bet she has twenty-six hundred admirers, including me, who would like to act Herod and kill off eligibles in order to destroy beforehand the inevitable lucky, but as yet unknown, blade who will some day persuade her to marry. And I daresay twenty-six million dollars would look rather small beside her fortune since they brought in oil on her land in California.”
…
“So Athelstan King, James Schuyler Grim and I–an Englishman and two Americans–with Narayan Singh, who is a Sikh and was a sepoy once, were under canvas by the left bank of Jumna River, swatting flies, smoking much more than was wholesome, and wishing the
Prince were in London in the care of Scotland Yard.
There was a brigade of Indian Cavalry camped on our left hand, about two miles away; we could hear the horses neighing, as bored as we felt.”
That doesn’t last long with Narayan Singhs and Kangra Khans around, though.
…
“At that point there is a gap I can’t bridge, of hideous, screaming night, all streaked with rifle-fire.”
Lots of that throughout, and ends in a bloody Tulwar-sabre duel over teeth!
“Smash him, Jeff! Oh, smash him!” Grim yelled. “Crush his guts!”
Fun stuff.
3.5 out of 5
