ow, on
the road outside which, a Guard of Honour of fifty sepoys under an
Indian officer was drawn up. Passing along the verandah he entered the
office and saluted the Colonel who, seated at his desk, looked up and
nodded for him to be seated and then returned to the despatch that he
was writing.

In a few minutes a confused murmur drew nearer down the road and was
stilled by the sharp words of command to the Guard of Honour and by the
ring of rifles brought to the present in salute. Over the low wall of
the garden appeared the heads and shoulders of the Envoy and his Chinese
companion, followed by a train of attendants and swordsmen. They passed
in through the gate. The Political Officer rose as the _Deb Zimpun_,
removing his cap, entered the office and rushed towards him. The
bullet-headed, cheery old gentleman beamed with pleasure as they shook
hands and greeted each other in Bhutanese. Wargrave marvelled at the
ease and fluency with which Colonel Dermot spoke the language. The
_Amban_ now entered the room and was formally presented by the _Deb
Zimpun_.

Speaking in excellent English but with an accent that showed that he had
first acquired it in Germany, he said:

"I am very pleased to meet you, Colonel. I have heard much of you in
Bhutan."

"It gives me equal pleasure to make Your Excellency's acquaintance and
to welcome you to India," replied Dermot with a bow.

Then in his turn Wargrave was presented to the two Asiatics, and the
Envoy, calling an attendant in, took from him two white scarves of
Chinese silk and placed one round each officer's neck in the custom
known as "_khattag_". All sat down and the Envoy plunged into an
animated conversation with Colonel Dermot, first producing a metal box
and taking betel-nut from it to chew, while the attendant placed a
spittoon conveniently near him.

Yuan Shi Hung chatted in English with Wargrave, who was astonished to
find him a well-educated man of the world and thoroughly conversant with
European politics, art and letters. But for the inscrutable yellow face
the subaltern could have believed himself to be talking to an able
Continental diplomat. The contrast between the semi-savage Bhutanese
official and his companion, in whom the most modern civilised
gentleman's manners were successfully grafted on the old-time courtesy
of the Chinese aristocrat, was very striking. The old Envoy was a frank
barbarian. He laughed loudly and clapped his hands in glee when Colo