names. They become known by phrases, such as, The Man Who Talks, Mr.
Once Upon a Time, The One-Rupee Man, and the like. As Warrington never
received any mail, as he never entered a hotel, nor spoke of the past,
he became The Man Who Never Talked of Home.

"I say, James, old sport, no more going up and down this bally old
river. We'll go on to Rangoon to-night, if we can find a berth."

"Yes, Sahib; this business very piffle," replied the Eurasian without
turning his head. Two things he dearly loved to acquire: a bit of
American slang and a bit of English silver. He was invariably changing
his rupees into shillings, and Warrington could not convince him that
he was always losing in the transactions.

They tramped on through the dust. The sun dropped. A sudden chill
began to penetrate the haze. The white man puffed his cheroot, its
wrapper dangling; the servant hummed an Urdu lullaby; the parrot
complained unceasingly.

"How much money have you got, James?"

"Three annas."

Warrington laughed and shook the dust from his beard. "It's a great
world, James, a great and wonderful world. I've just two rupees
myself. In other words, we are busted."

"Two rupees!" James paused and turned. "Why, Sahib, you have three
hundred thousand rupees in your pocket."