The Mussulman's amber face assumed a blacker hue. For a moment he stood as if he felt himself trapped, then licking his red lips quickly, his beady eyes shot fiery glances at the young man as he muttered in reply: "No, but half-castes do!" It was the first bearing of the cross which Mark Cheveril had to undergo. He waxed a shade paler, and seemed about to speak, then he checked himself and silently pointed to the door. The man's demeanour instantly changed. "Pardon your humble slave! He has been misled," he stammered. "By holy Mahomet, I'll make the dog that misled me pay for this!" Mark still pointed silently to the door. Zynool cast one long searching glance upon him, regarding him evidently with roused curiosity from top to toe. Then, salaaming profoundly, he sighed noisily and waddled out with a baulked expression on his cunning face. CHAPTER XIII. After Zynool's departure, Mark sat down to examine certain blue books which the Judge recommended for his perusal, but the late interview rankled. He could not concentrate his attention, and thought, with a sigh, how speedily he had been brought face to face with one of the unpleasant realities of official life. Even his vanity had received a shock. Did he look so clearly on the surface a man likely to have his price? The idea was revolting. Should he tell the Collector what had occurred or would it be best to bury the incident fathoms deep, was the query which haunted him throughout the remainder of the office hours. The Judge before leaving looked into the new Assistant's room with a friendly smile to see how he had been finding his way, and suggested that they should walk home together. Mark cheerfully assented, delighted to find that in this land of carriages one was sometimes permitted to use one's legs. The sun had lost its scorching element, and leafy Puranapore was bathed in a soft yellow radiance which reminded him of an autumn evening at home. A gentle breeze stirred the tree tops as their lengthening shadows fell on the white ribbon-like road. The twilight hour conduces to confidences, and Mark felt moved to introduce the unpleasant experience of the morning which was still uppermost in his mind, feeling that he could find no wiser confident than the trusty man of law by whose side he walked. But just as he was bracing himself to unfold the incident, he perceived Mrs. Goldring and her daughter coming towards them. Recalling her supercilious nod of the previous evening, he was surprised to receive quite a gracious greeting from the Judge's wife.