not obstructive to the main issue. I have certain funds--"

"I, too, have funds," smiled the missionary.

"I am not allowed, sahib, to involve myself in any brawl until after my
business is accomplished. It would be necessary first to assure me on
that point. My honor is involved in that matter. To whom, and of what
nature, would the letter be?"

"A letter to the Company's Resident at Abu, reporting to him that
Hindoo widows are still compelled in this city to burn themselves to
death above their husbands' funeral pyres."

The Rajput grinned. "Does the Resident sahib not know it, then?"

"There will be no chance of his not knowing should my report reach him!"

"I will see, sahib, what can be done, then, in the matter. If I can
find a man, I will bring him to you."

The missionary thanked him and stood watching as the Rajput rode away.
When the horseman's free, lean back had vanished in the inky darkness
his eyes wandered over to a point where tongues of flame licked upward,
casting a dull, dancing, crimson glow on the hot sky. Here and there,
silhouetted in the firelight, he could see the pugrees and occasional
long poles of men who prodded at the embers. Ululating through the din
of tom-toms he could catch the wails of women. He shuddered, prayed a
little, and went in.

That day even the little bazaar fosterlings, whom he had begged, and