"James, I owe you three hundred rupees, and I am going to add seven
hundred more. We've been fighting this old top for six years together,
and you've been a good servant and a good friend; and I'll take you
with me as far as this fortune will go, if you say the word."

"Ah, Sahib, I am much sorry. But Delhi calls, and I go. A thousand
rupees will make much business for me in the Chandney Chowk."

"Just as you say."

Presently they became purple shades in a brown world.




II

A MAN WITH A PAST

The moonless Oriental night, spangled with large and brilliant stars,
brilliant yet mellow, unlike the crisp scintillating presentment in
northern latitudes, might have served as an illustration of an
air-tight bowl, flung down relentlessly upon this part of the world.
Inside this figurative bowl it was chill, yet the air was stirless. It
was without refreshment; it became a labor and not an exhilaration to
breath it. A pall of suffocating dust rolled above and about the
Irrawaddy flotilla boat which, buffeted by the strong irregular
current, strained at its cables, now at the bow, now at the stern, not
dissimilar to the last rocking of a deserted swing. This sensation was