which could truthfully describe her swift movement to the screen.

Ballantyne however had clearly not been surprised by it.

"It was a piece of luck for me that I camped here yesterday and
telegraphed for my letters," he said. "You mentioned in your note that
you had only twenty-four hours to give to Chitipur, didn't you? So I was
sure that you would be upon this train."

He spoke with a slow precision in a voice which he was careful--or so it
struck Thresk--to keep suave and low; and as he spoke he moved towards
the dinner-table and came within the round pool of light. Thresk had a
clear view of him. He was a man of a gross and powerful face, with a
blue heavy chin and thick eyelids over bloodshot eyes.

"Will you have a cocktail?" he asked, and he called aloud, going to the
second passage from the tent: "Quai hai! Baram Singh, cocktails!"

The servant who had met Thresk at the door came in upon the instant with
a couple of cocktails on a tray.

"Ah, you have them," he said. "Good!"

But he refused the glass when the tray was held out to him, refused it
after a long look and with a certain violence.

"For me? Certainly not! Never in this world." He looked up at Thresk
with a laugh. "Cocktails are all very well for you, Mr. Thresk, who are
here during a cold weather, but we who make our homes here--we have to
be careful."