"I should say not! The Chandos bungalow is out of bounds; Chandos himself is a shady old chap, who shows his sense by never leaving cards on a mess, and never enters the station. His 'Mem Sahib' is all over the shop, flitting in and out of the club, and hanging on to the coat-tails of society. Of course we meet her at times in the reading room, and to speak to. She has a whole clan of brown relations in the city, called Jones. The man only wants a turban to be a khidmutgar!" "Then you don't know them at all?" "Oh, yes; I know Dom--she is different; she is not off the cab rank, and is rare good fun, and says the most amusing and unexpected things. We are tremendous pals, though I need scarcely remark that we don't publish the fact on the club notice board, or in the market place." "Um--no; but where else----?" "We write one another nice little notes. Our post office is a book in the library--last volume on fourth shelf. It is called 'Two Kisses'--rather neat, eh--quite my own idea----" "Do you merely correspond?" "Oh, no," responded Jimmy, with an airy flip of his cigarette, "on moonlight nights I drive out to Manora after mess; I have a rare stepper, and the cart has rubber tyres. I wait behind a little tope of trees for Dom, and we go for a couple of hours' spin. It's all as still as death and as bright as day; we have the whole country to ourselves. I'm not a fellow for humbugging about scenery, and the picturesque, but I tell you, Malcolm, that there's something in the quiet, still, spreading plains--with a silver shine on them, and the river here and there--flashing at one like a looking glass--that makes me feel quite--er--er--enthusiastic--and impressed, and all that sort of thing!" "Oh! and I should like to know how Mr. Chandos would be impressed and all that sort of thing, if he met you and his daughter scouring the country in the middle of the night?" "Bless your heart, there's not a soul in the secret but my syce. We always get home all right, and Dom creeps in as easily as a roof cat." "If you will take my advice, Master Jimmy, you won't go _too_ far." "Ten to fifteen miles is our limit----" "Oh, shut up! You know what I mean; that girl, by the look of her, has the real tropical temperament. If you play any of your tricks you will find yourself in the wrong box! Unless I'm mistaken, Nature has given her teeth and claws, and the power to use them. Mind you, it's not for nothing she's called the Red Cat--and I never trust any one with that particular shade of red hair----" "Red hair! Come, I like that! And what about your own crop of carrots, my boy? I admire Dom's hair; it is splendid--the true Venetian colour, whilst you are on the ginger shade----" "Carrots and ginger! What mixed metaphors!"