iled
buildings, domes and trees upon the other.

A gay white-and-gold launch, with its attendants in scarlet and white,
came for certain passengers, who were guests of the Governor. The police
launch, trim and business-like with its cheerful yellow-hatted sepoys,
came for others. Jan watched these favoured persons depart in stately
comfort, and went downstairs to get some breakfast. Then came the rush
of departure by the tender. So many had friends to meet them, and all
seemed full of pleasure in arrival. Jan was just beginning to feel
rather forlorn and anxious when the Purser, fussed and over-driven as he
always is at such times, came towards her, followed by a tall man
wearing a pith helmet and an overcoat.

"Mr. Ledgard has come to meet you, Miss Ross, so you'll be all right."

It was amazing how easy everything became. Mr. Ledgard's servants
collected Jan's cabin baggage and took it with them in the tender and,
on arrival, in a tikka-gharri--the little pony-carriage which is the
gondola of Bombay--and almost before she quite realised that the voyage
was over she found herself seated beside Peter in a comfortable
motor-car, with a cheerful little Hindu chauffeur at the steering-wheel,
sliding through wide, well-watered streets, still comparatively empty
because it was so early.

By mutual consent they turned to look at one another, and Jan noted that
Peter Ledgard _was_ thin and extremely yellow. That his eyes (hollow and
tired-looking as are the eyes of so many officials in the East) _were_
kind, and she thought she had never before beheld a firmer mouth or more
masterful jaw.

What Peter saw evidently satisfied him as to her common sense, for he
plunged _in medias res_ at once: "How much do you know of this
unfortunate affair?" he asked.

"Very little," she answered, "and that little extremely vague. Will you
tell me has Hugo come to total grief or not?"

"Officially, yes. He is finished, done for--may thank his lucky stars
he's not in gaol. It's well you should know this at the very beginning,
for of course he won't allow it, and poor Fay--Mrs. Tancred (I'm afraid
we're rather free-and-easy about Christian names in India)--doesn't know
the whole facts by a very long way. From what she tells me, I fear he
has made away with most of her money, too. Was any of it tied up?"

Jan shook her head. "We both got what money there was absolutely on my
father's death."

"Then," said Peter, "I fear you've got the w