Full of grudging curiosity Hyde came to stand by him, and King
stepped back just as the train began to move.

"That man, sir--over there--no, beyond him--there!"

Hyde thrust head and shoulders through the window, and a well-dressed
native with one foot on the running-board at the back end of the
train took a long steady stare at him before jumping in and slamming
the door of a third-class carriage.

"Which one?" demanded Hyde impatiently.

"I don't see him now, sir!"

Hyde snorted and returned to his seat in the silence of unspeakable
scorn. But presently he opened a suitcase and drew out a repeating
pistol which he cocked carefully and stowed beneath his pillow;
not at all a contemptible move, because the Indian railway thief
is the most resourceful specialist in the world. But King took
no overt precautions of any kind.

After more interminable hours night shut down on them, red-hot,
black-dark, mesmerically subdivided into seconds by the thump of
carriage wheels and lit at intervals by showers of sparks from the
gasping engine. The din of Babel rode behind the first-class carriages,
for all the natives in the packed third-class talked all together.
(In India, when one has spent a fortune on a third-class ticket,
one proceeds to enjoy the ride.) The train was a Beast out of
Revelation, wallowing in noise.