'Then why hast thou left out my name in writing to that Holy One?'
The Colonel smiled a queer smile. Kim took his courage in both
hands.

'It was said once to me that it is inexpedient to write the names
of strangers concerned in any matter, because by the naming of
names many good plans are brought to confusion.'

'Thou hast been well taught,' the Colonel replied, and Kim flushed.
'I have left my cheroot-case in the Padre's veranda. Bring it to my
house this even.'

'Where is the house?' said Kim. His quick wit told him that he was
being tested in some fashion or another, and he stood on guard.

'Ask anyone in the big bazar.' The Colonel walked on.

'He has forgotten his cheroot-case,' said Kim, returning. 'I must
bring it to him this evening. That is all my letter except, thrice
over, Come to me! Come to me! Come to me! Now I will pay for a
stamp and put it in the post. He rose to go, and as an afterthought
asked: 'Who is that angry-faced Sahib who lost the cheroot-case?'

'Oh, he is only Creighton Sahib - a very foolish Sahib, who is a
Colonel Sahib without a regiment.'

'What is his business?'

'God knows. He is always buying horses which he cannot ride, and