w
which is apparently empty, so we only had tiffin in the Dak bungalow.

CHAPTER XXXII

The D. C. Bungalow is certainly very nice, bar _The Mystery_. The roses
are splendid, in masses; and orchids hang everywhere. I suppose the
interest in them at home accounts for their being hung here on every
cottage. We had almost a deck load of them on board this morning; roots
that may cost a great price in Britain may be bought here for a few
pence. They say the road over to China is festooned with orchids, and
jungle-fowl sit amongst them and crow. G. intends to get some, and take
them home, which means more glass, of course: and I hope to pot the
jungle-fowl, so we both feel we have an object in life, and an apology
for our itinerance.

But first, a word about THE MYSTERY. It was very delightful being asked
to put up in such a charming bungalow--the invitation came by heliograph
from a little fort up in the woods on the mountains, many miles away to
the north-west, where the Deputy-Commisioner, Mr Levison, was going his
rounds.

There was a silence and a stillness about the house that was almost
eerie; the impress on a cushion, the cigarette ash, and torn letters on
the verandah looked as if the house was in use; but a second glance
showed that fine dust lay over all, and made the house feel deserted.
The old Burmese man-servant disappeared when we arrived, so G. and I
went through the house alone, to fix on our room. We had done this, and
I had gone downstairs when G. called me. She had turned over a mattress,
and on it was a great space of _congealed blood_ just where a man's
throat might have been! I only gathered afterwards how much alarmed she
was, and she only gathered afterwards how much alarmed I was. When G.
went downstairs I made an exhaustive inspection; the blood was barely a
day old! and on the floor I found spots, then gouts, and then marks of
naked, gory feet leading to, and from the little bathroom--it looked
horribly like "withered murder!" Had the silent bare-footed Burman...?
And what had been done with the.... Yes! there was a streak along the
foot of the door--it had been dragged out!--Or was it floor varnish?
Should I question the servant--would he, or could he, explain? No--I
decided it was too late to do anything. So we both pretended we thought
little of the matter, turned over the mattress, put our own on top,
bolted the doors, put two Colt-Browning repeaters under our pillows, and
went as