promised and asked Olesen if he knew them.

"Slightly. Canadians of Danish blood like my own. Their name is
Ingmar. Some people think the daughter good-looking. The mother
is supposed to be clever; keen on occult subjects which she came
back to India to study. The husband was a great naturalist and
the kindest of men. He almost lived in the jungle and the natives
had all sorts of rumours about his powers. You know what they
are. They said the birds and beasts followed him about. Any old
thing starts a legend."

"What was the connection with Rup Singh?"

"He was in difficulties and undeservedly, and Ingmar generously
lent him money at a critical time, trusting to his honour for
repayment. Like most Orientals he never forgets a good turn and
would do anything for any of the family - except trust the women
with any secret he valued. The father is long dead. By the way
Rup Singh gave me a queer message for you. He said; 'Tell the
Sahib these words - "Let him who finds water in the desert share
his cup with him who dies of thirst." He is certainly getting
very old. I don't suppose he knew himself what he meant."

I certainly did not. However my way was thus smoothed for me and
I took the upward road, leaving Olesen to the long ungrateful
toil of the man who devotes his life to India without sufficient
time or knowledge to make his way to the inner chambers of her
beauty. There is no harder mistress unless you hold the pass-key
to her mysteries, there is none of whom so little can be told in
words but who kindles so deep a passion. Necessity sometimes