med that the man with the "queer name" was his neighbour at table.

"You see what you get for your modesty," cried old Ghyrkins, laughing to
convulsions.

"And is it really true, Mr. Isaacs?" asked Miss Westonhaugh, looking
admiringly across at the young man, who seemed rather annoyed.

And so the conversation went round and all were merry, and some were
sleepy after dinner, and we sat in long chairs under the awning or
_connat_. There was no moon yet, but the stars shone out as they shine
nowhere save in India, and the evening breeze played pleasantly through
the ropes after the long hot day. Miss Westonhaugh assured everybody for
the hundredth time that day that she rather liked the smell of cigars,
and so we smoked and chatted a little, and presently there was a jerk
and a sputtering sneeze from Mr. Ghyrkins, who, being weary with the
march and the heat and the good dinner, and on the borders of sleep, had
put the wrong end of his cigar in his mouth with destructive results.
Then he threw it away with a small volley of harmless expletives, and
swore he would go to bed, as he could not stand our dulness any longer;
but he merely shifted his position a little, and was soon snoring
merrily.

"What a pity it is we have no piano, Katharine," said John Westonhaugh,
who was fond of music. "Could you not sing something without any
accompaniment?"

"Oh no. Mr. Isaacs," she said, turning her voice to where she could see
the light of his cigarette and the faint outline of his chair in the
starlight, "here we are in the camp. Now where is the 'lute' you
promised to produce for us? I think the time has come at last for you to
keep your promise."

"Well," said he, "I believe there really is an old guitar or something
of the kind among my traps somewhere. But it might wake Mr. Ghyrkins,
who, I understand from his tones, is asleep."

Various opinions were expressed to the effect that Mr. Ghyrkins was not
so easily disturbed, and a voice like Kildare's was heard to mumble that
"it would not hurt him if he was," a sentence no one attempted to
construe. So the faithful Narain was summoned, and instructed to bring
the instrument if he could find it. I was rather surprised at Isaacs'
readiness to sing; but in the first place I had never heard him, and
besides I did not make allowance for the Oriental courtesy of his
character, which would not refuse anything, or make any show of refusal
in order to be pressed. Narain returned wit