“But Mademoiselle Blanc-Sec! The Ruby of Rani Lakshmibai is said to be guarded by a chudail —a witch who eats the entrails of archaeologists!”
“Darling, I’ve been eaten by a pterodactyl. Twice. A chudail is a Tuesday.” Panel 2. Cut to the dark catacombs beneath the Jhansi Fort. A skeleton sits on a throne, wearing the ruby—a stone the size of a small mango. Adèle has already disabled three booby traps: a cobra pit (she bribed the cobras with a flute), a pit of spikes (she used Higgins’s pith helmet as a cushion), and a curse written in Sanskrit (she had her ayah translate: “Do Not Steal” – “That’s just a suggestion,” Adèle mutters).
The chudail pauses. Laughs.
“Okay, ruby. You’re insured, you’re beautiful, and you’re about to save my deadline. Now—what’s the catch?” Panel 3. The catch: The chudail appears. But she’s not a hag. She’s a stunning, smoky-eyed woman in a zardozi lehenga , chewing paan.
“Tum phir aa gayi, Adèle? Last time it was the mummy of Rani Padmavati. Now my ruby?”