"'The curse, sahib. It is on me, also,' he mouthed, his lips twisting grotesquely. 'Her shadow fell across me as I sat by the doorway—the lady-sahib's shadow.'
"I tried to laugh, in spite of the creepiness that came over me at his words. 'Nonsense, Durah,' I told him. 'You know that's nothing to do with us English people.'
"He clutched at his scrawny throat with long, brown fingers and fairly hissed at me.
"'You laugh, sahib. But I tell you it will take only time to tell which of us will outlive the other.'
"'What do you mean?' I asked, for a second wondering if the fellow was hinting at murder.
"A corner of his mouth twitched. He bowed low and answered respectfully, seriously, so that I was impressed by his words.
"'It is only that I was the first on whom her shadow fell and so there must be a struggle, soul against soul—a race against death, sahib. If I am overtaken first by the Great Fear, your lady lives and will be young again—and beautiful. If she is taken, then I am free, and the curse is removed, it is very simple. It has been so written and it will so happen.'
"His face was the impassive, mystic face of all India, as he bowed and began to slither away toward the natives' quarters.
"'Wait!' I cried, but he moved swiftly away and was lost among the thick shrubbery.
"I stood quite still, I remember, and went over his words, one by one. Then I went to my sister and told her. I found her as she was usually to be found the past three days, lying on her cot, with the native woman at the side fanning and crooning.
"When she heard Durah's story she raised herself with some animation. 'If that is true,' she said, 'I have a chance, then. Is that true, Ashan?'
"The woman, Ashan, nodded. 'It is true, lady-sahib. Even I who know about the English God, know that to be true. My mother has told me.'
"My sister looked at her wrinkled hand. 'Well,' she said, 'we will be going back soon. The hunters have had enough—six tigers and the blue-eyed Thing. I can't call it a tiger. If it's a race with death, I have a chance. I am as young as Durah almost. He is twenty, they say.'
"And so, in time, we returned to
Judhpore. Marie had to cancel her
next season's contract, for every day there
were signs of the terrible thing that had
come to her—her lined, drawn, old face;
her graying, lusterless hair; the tottering
step of advanced age. It was terrible.
"We had every medical aid. They were skeptical. They were of no help to us. Carson, she is under a curse. It has been more than six months since the tiger hunt. Her time is drawing near. I feel it. But what can I do—in India?"
"Well," said Carson, "people say there is no such thing as curse, as the powers of the evil eye, of things like this—but how can we tell?" He added, suddenly, "What of Durah?"
"That's the other side of this horrible thing. Durah stayed on with me as my servant, though it was not many weeks before he was unable to do much work. It is as he said it would be, he is failing, failing rapidly. My sister has never seen him since the tiger hunt. I could not allow it. As it is, the thought of their terrible race is with them always."
"I'd like to see this Durah," said Carson. "Do you suppose"
"That's his little place down there through the trees. You see the light? It seems strange that in six months Durah has changed from a strong, young man
