has been allowed to see the exhibition picture.'

'What does that portend?' I said, thoughtfully.

'I don't know. Sir William was here yesterday simply swelling with
his impression of it. He says it's the finest thing that has been
done in India. I told you he would conquer them.'

'You did,' and without thinking I added, 'I hope you won't be sorry
that you asked him to.' It must have been an inspiration.

Armour, those weeks before the exhibition, seemed invisible. Dora
reported him torn with the incapacity of the bazaar frame-maker to
follow a design, and otherwise excessively occupied, and there was
no lack of demands upon my own time. Besides, my ardour to be of
assistance to the young man found a slight damper in the fact that
he was staying with Sir William Lamb. What competence had I to be
of use to the guest of Sir William Lamb?

'I do not for a moment think he will be there,' said Dora, on the
day of the private view as we went along the Mall towards the Town
Hall together. 'He will not run with an open mouth to his success.
He will take it from us later.'

But he was there. We entered precisely at the dramatic moment of
his presentation by Sir William Lamb to the Viceroy. He stood
embarrassed and smiling in a little circle of compliments and
congratulation. Behind him and a little to the left hung his
picture, large and predominant, and in the corner of the frame was
stuck the red ticket that signified the Viceroy's gold medal. We