"Time will show, sahib," the juggler said; "the pictures never lie.
Shall I show you other things?"

"No, Rujub, you have shown me enough; you have astounded me. I want
to see no more tonight."

"Then farewell, sahib; we shall meet again, I doubt not, and mayhap
I may be able to repay the debt I owe you;" and Rujub, lifting his
basket, went out through the window without another word.



CHAPTER III.


Some seven or eight officers were sitting round the table in the
messroom of the 103d Bengal Infantry at Cawnpore. It had been a
guest night, but the strangers had left, the lights had been turned
out in the billiard room overhead, the whist party had broken up,
and the players had rejoined three officers who had remained at
table smoking and talking quietly.

Outside, through the open French windows, the ground looked as if
sprinkled with snow beneath the white light of the full moon. Two
or three of the mess servants were squatting in the veranda, talking
in low voices. A sentry walked backwards and forwards by the gate
leading into the mess house compound; beyond, the maidan stretched
away flat and level to the low huts of the native lines on the
other side.