had only set foot in his Imperial Majesty the King
Emperor's Indian Empire that month, and he was dazed with impressions,
drunk with sensations, and uplifted with pride. Was he not one of the
Conquerors, a member of the Superior Society, one of the Ruling Race,
and, in short, a Somebody?

The train started again and Horace sank back upon the long couch of the
unwonted first-class carriage, and sighed with contentment and
satisfaction.

How different from Peckham and from the offices of the fine old British
Firm of Schneider, Schnitzel, Schnorrer & Schmidt! A Somebody at
last--after being office-boy, clerk, strap-hanger, gallery-patron,
cheap lodger, and paper-collar wearer. A Somebody, a Sahib, an English
gent., one of the Ruling and Upper Class after being a fourpenny
luncher, a penny-'bus-and-twopenny--tuber, a waverer 'twixt Lockhart and
Pearce-and-Plenty.

For him, now, the respectful salaam, precedence, the first-class
carriage, the salutes of police and railway officials, hotels, a servant
(elderly and called a "Boy"), cabs (more elderly and called "gharries"),
first-class refreshment and waiting rooms, a funny but imposing
sun-helmet, silk and cotton suits, evening clothes, deference, regard
and prompt attention everywhere. Better than Peckham and the City, this!
My! What tales he'd have to tell Gwladwys Gwendoline when he had
completed his circuit and returned.

For Mr. Horace Faggit, plausible, observant, indefatigably cunning, and
in business most capable ("No bloomin' flies on 'Orris F." as he would
confidently and truthfully assure you) was the first tentative tentacle
advanced to feel its way by the fine old British Firm of Schneider,
Schnitzel, Schnorrer & Schmidt, in the mazy markets of the gorgeous
Orient, and to introduce to the immemorial East their famous jewellery
and wine of Birmingham and Whitechapel respectively; also to introduce
certain exceeding-private documents to various gentlemen of Teutonic
sympathies and activities in various parts of India--documents of the
nature of which Horace was entirely ignorant.

And the narrow bosom of Horace swelled with pride, as he realized that,
here at least, he was a Gentleman and a Sahib.

Well, he'd let 'em know it too. Those who did him well and pleased him
should get tips, and those who didn't should learn what it was to earn
the displeasure of the Sahib and to evoke his wrath. And he would
endeavour to let all and sundry see the immeasurable dis