Mr. Thole listened with stern gravity, neither stirring a muscle nor interrupting by a single question until the missionary had produced all the slender information that he possibly could give on the subject. When Mr. Hartley stopped, the commissioner coldly asked, after a brief pause, “Have you anything more to communicate, sir?” “Nothing more at present,” was the reply. “Then allow me to say that Mr. Hartley has not shown all the discrimination and judgment which might have been expected from one of his experience in bringing before me a case which has not a leg to stand on,” said the commissioner, with a touch of impatience. “Your daughter-in-law, a young lady who, as you own, possesses slight knowledge of Urdu, hears a woman in a zenana shout out thrice what she is pleased to consider an English word. It was probably the praise of some of her myriad gods, _jai_ (victory) being easily mistaken for ‘joy,’ The girl is white; but that is not the slightest proof of European origin—some Kashmiris and Pathans, as every one knows, having complexions perfectly fair. You would have me give weight to the evidence of a youth who owns that he always considered the girl an Afghan, and who would never have thought of her as anything else, had it not been put into his head that the widow may be a European. And on such cobweb evidence as this you would have me to do what would justly make me the most unpopular man in the Panjab, cause probably a serious tumult, and expose me to Government censure!” Mr. Thole’s voice rose to a more indignant pitch at each clause in his speech till it reached a climax in the peroration: “No, sir; I have too much regard for the interests of Government and my own honour to violate the sacred privacy of a Hindu zenana by a demand for the production of one of its inmates on an absurd suspicion confirmed by not even the shadow of truth!” Mr. Thole pushed back his chair and angrily rose from the table. “I see the force of what you say, sir,” observed Mr. Hartley; “but should further evidence be brought forward—” “Of course, of course, if there be documents or proofs such as would justify a demand for the girl’s examination, I would do my duty, whatever opposition might be aroused,” interrupted the commissioner in a haughty manner: “at present there seems to be nothing of the kind; and I can only regret, sir, that you have put yourself” (“and me” was understood though not expressed) “to such unnecessary trouble.” “Then we have only to wish you good-night, sir,” said Mr. Hartley, attempting to rise; but weary, and overcome by a sudden attack of giddiness, he was unable to do so, and sank back on his chair. “You must not think of returning to Talwandi to-night, Mr. Hartley,” said the commissioner; “you are evidently unequal to riding, even if the road were a smooth one. You and your son can occupy the tent of my munshi.”