Now the Princess was the solitary brat of a very wealthy merchant prince, Honble Sir Monarch Jones, whose proud and palatial storehouses were situated in the most fashionable part of Camden Town. Sir Jones, in spite of Lord Jack's resignation, did not at first regard Mr Bhosh with the paternal eye of approval, but rather advanced the objection that the colour of his money was practically invisible. "My daughter," he said haughtily, "is to have a lakh of rupees on her nuptials. Have _you_ a lakh of rupees?" Bindabun was tempted to make the rather facetious reply that he had, indeed, a lack of rupees at the present moment. Sir Monarch, however, like too many English gentlemen, was totally incapable of comprehending the simplest Indian _jeu des mots_, and merely replied. "Unless you can _show_ me your lakh of rupees, you cannot become my beloved son-in-law." So, as Mr Bhosh was a confirmed impecunious, he departed in severe despondency. However, fortune favoured him, as always, for he made the acquaintance of a certain Jewish-Scotch, whose cognomen was Alexander Wallace McAlpine, and who kindly undertook to lend him a lakh of rupees for two days at interest which was the mere bite of a flea. Having thus acquired the root of all evil, Bindabun took it in a four-wheeled cab and triumphantly exhibited his hard cash to Sir Jones, who, being unaware that it was borrowed plumage, readily consented that he should marry his daughter. After which Mr Bhosh honourably restored the lakh to the accommodating Scotch minus the interest, which he found it inconvenient to pay just then. I am under great apprehensions that my gentle readers, on reading thus far and no further, will remark: "Oho! then we are already at the _finis_, seeing that when a hero and heroine are once booked for connubial bliss, their further proceedings are of very mediocre interest!" Let me venture upon the respectful caution that every cup possesses a proverbially slippery lip, and that they are by no means to take it as granted that Mr Bhosh is so soon married and done for. Remember that he still possesses a rather formidable enemy in Duchess Dickinson, who is irrevocably determined to insert a spike in his wheel of fortune. For a woman is so constituted that she can never forgive an individual who has once treated her advances with contempt, no matter how good-humoured such contempt may have been. No, misters, if you offend a feminine you must look out for her squalls. Readers are humbly requested not to toss this fine story aside under the impression that they have exhausted the cream in its cocoanut. There are many many incidents to come of highly startling and sensational character. CHAPTER VII THE ADVENTURE OF THE UNWIELDY GIFTHORSE When dormant lightning is pent in the polished hoofs of a colt, And his neck is clothed with thunder,--then, horseman, beware of the bolt! _From the Persian, by H. B. J._