direct to the culprit?"

The ceremony of introduction was gone through, on Beatrice Cary's side
with a sudden change of manner. Hitherto cold, indifferent, slightly
supercilious, she now relaxed into a gentleness that was almost appealing.

"This is a new world for me," she said, looking up into Captain Stafford's
amused face, "and I have so many questions to ask that I am afraid of
turning into a mark of interrogation, or--as you said--a disturber of
the peace."

"You won't ask questions long," he answered, with a wise shake of the
head. "Nobody does. Wherever English people go they take their whole
paraphernalia with them; and you will find that, with a few superficial
differences, Marut is no more or less than a snug little English suburb.
A little more freedom of intercourse--a little less Philistinism,
perhaps--but the foundations are the same. As to India itself, one soon
learns to forget all about it."

He then turned to Lois, who was intent on watching Mr. Travers.

"You weren't on the race-course this morning," he said in an undertone.
"I missed you. Why did you not come?"

"I couldn't," she said. "There was too much to be done. We are rather
short of servants just now, for reasons--well, that, according to you,
ought not to be mentioned on a fine day."

He laughed, but not as he had hitherto done. There was another tone in
his voice, warmer, more confidential. It attracted Beatrice Cary's