u and there is a dak-bungalow where you can eat it."

"Thank you," said Thresk, and the train moved off. The sun had set before
he reached the junction. When he stepped out on to the platform twilight
had come--the swift twilight of the East. Before he had reached the
dak-bungalow the twilight had changed to the splendour of an Indian
night. The bungalow was empty of visitors. Thresk's bearer lit a fire and
prepared dinner while Thresk wandered outside the door and smoked. He
looked across a plain to a long high ridge, where once a city had
struggled. Its deserted towers and crumbling walls still crowned the
height and made a habitation for beasts and birds. But they were quite
hidden now and the sharp line of the ridge was softened. Halfway between
the old city and the bungalow a cluster of bright lights shone upon the
plain and the red tongues of a fire flickered in the open. Thresk was in
no hurry to go back to the bungalow. The first chill of the darkness had
gone. The night was cool but not cold; a moon had risen, and that dusty
plain had become a place of glamour. From somewhere far away came the
sound of a single drum. Thresk garnered up in his thoughts the beauty of
that night. It was to be his last night in India. By this time to-morrow
Bombay would have sunk below the rim of the sea. He thought of it with
regret. He had come up into Rajputana on a definite quest and on the
advice of a woman whose judgment he was inclined to trust. And his quest
had failed. He was to see for himself. He would see nothing. And still
far away the beating of that drum went on--monotonous, mournful,
significant--the real call of the East made audible. Thresk leaned
forward on his seat, listening, treasuring the sound. He rose reluctantly
when his bearer came to tell him that dinner was ready. Thresk took a
look round. He pointed to the cluster of lights on the plain.

"Is that a village?" he asked.

"No, Sahib," replied the bearer. "That's his Excellency's camp."

"What!" cried Thresk, swinging round upon his heel.

His bearer smiled cheerfully.

"Yes. His Excellency to whom I carried the Sahib's letter. That's his
camp for to-night. The keeper of the bungalow told me so. His Excellency
camped here yesterday and goes on to-morrow."

"And you never told me!" exclaimed Thresk, and he checked himself. He
stood wondering what he should do, when there came suddenly out of the
darkness a queer soft scuffling sound, the like of whic