through Marwar Junction in the early morning of the 24th by the
Bombay Mail. Can you be at Marwar Junction on that time? 'T won't be
inconveniencing you, because I know that there's precious few pickings
to be got out of these Central India States--even though you pretend to
be correspondent of the 'Backwoodsman.'"

"Have you ever tried that trick?" I asked.

"Again and again, but the Residents find you out, and then you get
escorted to the Border before you've time to get your knife into them.
But about my friend here. I _must_ give him a word o' mouth to tell him
what's come to me, or else he won't know where to go. I would take it
more than kind of you if you was to come out of Central India in time to
catch him at Marwar Junction, and say to him, 'He has gone South for the
week.' He'll know what that means. He's a big man with a red beard, and
a great swell he is. You'll find him sleeping like a gentleman with
all his luggage round him in a Second-class apartment. But don't you be
afraid. Slip down the window and say, 'He has gone South for the week,'
and he'll tumble. It's only cutting your time of stay in those parts
by two days. I ask you as a stranger--going to the West," he said, with
emphasis.

"Where have _you_ come from?" said I.

"From the East," said he, "and I am hoping that you will give him the
message on the Square--for the sake of my Mother as well as your own."

Englishmen are not usually softened by appeals to the memory of their
mothers; but for certain reasons, which will be fully apparent, I saw
fit to agree.