At last, utterly wearied by this severe cross-examination, he exclaimed: "I am truly sorry my information appears so meagre, but the truth is that India--real India--is to the European a closed book!" "Oh no, surely not!" she protested warmly. "Only stupid, lazy people say so!" "Well, I have been out in the East seven years, and I know precious little of the natives, although I speak their language. I was born there, too, and sent home as a kid. My father was a judge in the Punjaub for thirty years. Shall I tell you what he said?" "Oh, pray do!" "That we Europeans are like drops of oil on a great ocean of water, and will never penetrate or mix!" "Really! Well, I am afraid I do not share his opinion," declared the listener with a shrug of her round shoulders. "You have been in the country, of course?" "No; but I have read about it, which amounts to almost the same thing. Have you seen a book called 'Thrills from the Hills, or The Curse of the Khitmagar'?" "Yes, as it happens, I have! A fellow on board ship had it, and I looked into it." "Tell me, how did it strike you?" she demanded, and the lady's key was pitched in the imperative mood. "As absolutely the greatest drivel and rot I ever read--and that is saying a good deal! It is no more like India than it's like Homburg! I should say that the author took her facts from fiction, her local colour from Earl's Court, and her grammar from her cook!" There was an unusually spacious pause. Captain Haig glanced furtively at his companion, and noticed that her face had become alarmingly red. Presently she remarked in a repressed, but throaty voice: "It is a misfortune that the book fails to meet with your approval. As it happens it was written by my sister," and she turned her head away and gave him a view of nearly the whole of her shoulders. "Well, what was said was said!" reflected her neighbour, apologies were useless. He tossed off a glass of champagne and settled himself to brazen out the situation until a welcome signal should give him his release. For a considerable time the culprit was compelled to subsist on disjointed scraps of the adjoining conversations. Among the crumbs he gathered were these: "Fancy going 'no trumps' on such a hand! Wasn't it sickening?" "Oh--I don't know! He had two aces. It was unlucky he was done in spades." "A lovely piece of Persian lamb. Just enough for the collar." "No; a man with a beard never takes on the stage." "So they got the grand slam!" "I'm sure the Staal Brunnen would suit you." "But she is _so dark_--her eyes and hair--you don't think----?" Voice dropped, man's raised in reply, and in the key of D sharp. "Good heavens, no! What an awful suspicion! Not with that complexion." Pushing back of chairs, general rising, general exit.