The act on my part was very quickly done, and then he raised his head, and his eyes met mine with a look that I could not read, but I could see that his lips were quivering, and the side of his head left uncovered was full of lines. The next moment I had remembered that I was an officer, and drew myself up stiffly. "Is Lieutenant Barton in his rooms?" I said, in what I meant to be sharp, authoritative tones. "Yes; what do you want?" came out through the window; and I stepped forward, catching one peculiar look from the injured man again, and noticing that the other syces salaamed to me as I passed out of the glare of sunshine, into the comparative darkness of a mat-hung passage, and from thence into a comfortable room well-furnished with cane chairs, gay Indian rugs, and curtains, and with a light table, on which stood a cigar-box, a bottle or two, and glasses. Between them lay a stout, silver-topped malacca cane, evidently the instrument with which the native groom had been chastised. But the principal object in the room was a fair-haired, supercilious-looking young man of seven or eight and twenty, in the lightest of pyjamas, and with a scarlet sash about his waist. He was lolling back in a reclining-chair as I entered, and he wrinkled his face, half-closing his eyes, and drawing his heavy moustache close up under his nose in a very unpleasant way, as he stared at me. "Oh, you're our new fire-eater," he said, in a bantering tone. "I heard you had come while I was away. How are you? Sit down and have a cigar. Here, hi!" He clapped his hands, and a grave-looking native in white entered, salaamed, and said softly-- "Sahib?" "Mix two cool drinks, and put in plenty of ice. Look sharp!" "Don't order anything for me," I said, as the man bowed and left the room. "Don't object to my having one, do you?" was said sneeringly, as I sat down; and then the officer laughed. "Take a cigar." "Thank you. I don't smoke." "Don't drink--don't smoke? Ah, well, I dare say we can teach you before we've done. Well, how do you like Rambagh?" "I haven't been here long enough to tell yet. It is very hot." "Pooh! this is nothing. Ninety. Wait a bit, and we'll give it to you up to twenty." "No, that's too cold," I said, laughing. "Is it? Wait till you try." "Oh, you mean a hundred and twenty." "I do. You will not be so ready to use a lot of words when one will do, after you've been here a while." "I suppose it does make you languid." "Yes, and you can't get a thing done by the lazy hounds you have for servants. The more you keep, the less there is done. I had to thrash my new syce this morning to bring him to his senses." "Yes, I heard you," I said. "Are you allowed to knock people about like that?" He opened his eyes, and then squeezed them up again, as he stared at me wonderingly. "Allowed? Who's to prevent it?" "I don't know," I said. "I'm new to the place."