all being slowly smothered by the jungle. The weirdest thing you
ever saw. I climbed some fallen columns to get a better look, and
as I did I saw a face flash by at the arch of a broken window. I
sang out in Hindustani, but no answer: only the echo from the
woods. Somehow that dampened my ardour, and I didn't go in to
what seemed like a great ruined hall for the place was so eerie
and lonely, and looked mighty snaky into the bargain. So I came
ingloriously away and told Rup Singh. And his whole face
changed. 'That is The House of Beauty,' he said. 'All my life
have I sought it and in vain. For, friend of my soul, a man must
lose himself that he may find himself and what lies beyond, and
the trodden path has ever been my doom. And you who have not
sought have seen. Most strange are the way of the Gods'. Later on
I knew this was why he had always gone up yearly, thinking and
dreaming God knows what. He and I tried for the place together,
but in vain and the whole thing is like a dream. Twice he has let
friends of mine stay at The House in the Woods, and I think he
won't refuse now."

"Did he ever tell you the story?"

"Never. I only know what I've picked up here. Some horrible
mistake about the Rani that drove the man almost mad with
remorse. I've heard bits here and there. There's nothing so vital
as tradition in India."

"I wonder'. what really happened."

"That we shall never know. I got a little old picture of the
Maharao - said to be painted by a Pahari artist. It's not likely