"If that old man hadn't bestirred himself marvellously he would have been under your horses' hoofs," said Mark, "and yet he cleared himself with an air of dignity. I hope he isn't any the worse. I say, shouldn't we pull up for an instant and speak to the old fellow? He seems to be waiting. Look, he's standing gazing reproachfully at the chariot that so nearly wrought him destruction!" Mark's eyes were directed to where the light from one of the oil lamps, planted at intervals along the road, fell on the face of the foot-passenger, a face which instantly attracted him because of a certain wistful, expectant look it wore. "I think he expects a word of apology, Rayner," he said again. "Well, he shan't have it, that's all," said his companion shortly. "He needn't have been out on foot at this hour. He's got a carriage to drive in! He deserves to be run down. Bah, he's only a half-caste, after all!" "A half-caste, did you say?" exclaimed Mark. "He interests me all the more because of that! Perhaps you don't know, Rayner, that I too am of mixed blood. It has always given me a strong feeling of brotherhood with such----" "Take my advice, Cheveril, and pocket that fact," said Alfred Rayner, after a moment's silence. "Mind, I speak as a friend," he added, slacking his horses' pace and poising his whip. "My wife whispered to me something of this quixotic fad of yours. She, of course, is too new to India to understand, like me, the folly of it. It comes back to me that even when you were a little kid at Hacket's you used to indulge in some talk that was unwise. But now that you've got into that fine Service--and lucky you are--you must keep a quiet tongue in your head about that fact. Believe me, not even the Civil Service will carry you through if you persist in knocking your head against that post. And there's no need, Cheveril," continued his companion, glancing at him. "I was just thinking when I saw you crossing that crimson strip with Judge Teape near you, that he looked much more _chi-chi_ than you did, though he's a pucka Englishman. Not a soul will ever guess it, and depend upon it Hester and I will never breathe your secret. Now there's a compact!" And Rayner bowed graciously. There was something so offensive in his tone and suggestion that Mark was for a moment struck dumb. Mistaking his silence, Rayner added, in a patronising tone: "You're taking offence at what I've been saying, old chap. I assure you it's for your good!" "Offence? No, rather I should like to try to bring you to a better mind," said Mark stoutly. "These prejudices of yours are not new to me. I haven't attained to my years without having them dinned into me at home----"