He had ample time for his soliloquy while he waited for a response to his knock. At length he heard the withdrawing of heavy bolts within and the door was opened. On his inquiry if Zynool Sahib was at home, a suspicious-looking servant led him along a dark, narrow passage from which he passed into a courtyard ablaze with sunshine and gay with flowering shrubs. In the centre a fountain played and goldfish disported themselves in its sparkling basin. Rows of windows with leaded panes of glass looked into the court, some of these were being hurriedly closed now, though the visitor was able to catch a glimpse of moving forms within and even of faces peering furtively down upon him. "The harem, of course," muttered Mr. Rayner, with a scornful smile. "No, ladies, you need not fear, I'll not peep, I've no wish to anger your lord and master!" After a little pause another servant appeared; he was evidently of a higher grade, for he pushed the other aside rudely, saying: "Your honour will follow me! The Sahib will see!" The visitor was led along more passages and finally shown into a large room furnished entirely after English fashions of an unrefined sort. The badly stuffed sofa and chairs covered with crimson plush looked most uninviting. On the floor was spread a crude coloured Brussels carpet, while lovely Persian rugs lay huddled on the verandah outside. The only ornament in the room was a huge musical box. "So this is Zynool's idea of comfort! I wonder what Hester would think of this," muttered Mr. Rayner, flinging his sun-topee on the garish plush table-cloth, its neutral colour giving a relieving touch which he noted almost with comfort as he seated himself on the hard sofa. He had never before penetrated into Zynool's home, having most frequently arranged meetings with him in Madras, or, when business necessitated a visit to Puranapore, Zynool had always directed him to a room near the railway station which seemed at his disposal. Presently the heavy curtain at the other end of the room from which he had entered was pushed aside by a fat brown hand bedecked with sparkling rings, and the master of the house stood before him, making less deferential salaam than usual, and with a frown on his face. Rayner also discerned from a certain flicker of his eyelids which half covered his beady eyes that Zynool was not in the best of tempers. "Worse luck for me," he groaned inwardly. "You give your humble slave one surprise, La'yer Rayner," said Zynool, licking his coarse red lips, as he disposed his heavy person on the edge of one of the plush-covered chairs. "No chit, no wire, no nossing!" he jerked, looking querulously at his visitor as he spoke. "Upon my word, Zynool, I ought to apologise for my coming upon you in this unceremonious manner," returned Mr. Rayner, assuming his most conciliatory tone, "but we're such friends, you and I, I thought I might risk an impromptu visit. What a beautiful room you have here--quite English, I declare!"