"Lord and Lady Illingworth are having a large party at Knowlesworth, entertaining the Bohemian Ambassador and Countess Polsky, the Duke of Strathpeffer, the Marquess and Marchioness of Bridlington, the Dean of Penzance, Professor Rawson, and others." "What a crew!" thought Travers. "Wouldn't Strathpeffer be pleased if I came a cropper! I wonder he can go there after Mary's last refusal. I'll wait till they thin a bit. Some are sure to go on Monday, so Monday night is my best time for the job. Now for Bradshaw." On the following Monday night, Travers took a second-class ticket at Charing Cross in order to minimise the chance of running against friends. From sheer curiosity he chose a compartment in which two singular-looking men were already seated. The weather was by no means cold, yet they were swathed in winter clothing. Thick mufflers were round their necks. Their faces were partly hidden by the wraps, and partly shaded by the broad brims of silk hats built about the time of the Crimean War. But their race was unmistakable--to Travers at least. They were Hindoos--the tall one probably a man of caste, the podgy person possibly a Baboo. In his interest at coming across these strange people Travers forgot his ultimate objective. He settled himself in his corner, prepared either to join in conversation with, or merely to watch, his quaint fellow-travellers. On his entrance they had turned their eyes upon him, but they had resumed their conversation. As the train got on its way they raised their voices, and, confident of not being understood, they spoke with absolute unrestraint. Travers, with knowledge derived from ten years' service in the Madras and Indian Staff Corps, was easily able to follow their talk. "At last," said the tall man, as the train moved out of the station. "At last," repeated the other. "Buck up. Now is the conclusion of your spacious quest." "Say rather the beginning. So far it has been easy, despite the horror of mingling with these barbarians. To lose caste was foreseen, but now we enter upon the unknown." "Nevertheless, I take the liberty of emphasising the necessity of bucking up. To-morrow you will be a thrice happy man, and I will weave a garland of marigolds for your honourable head. Gosh!" This as the train entered a tunnel with a hideous shriek. "It is a taste of the underworld," he added. The tall man shuddered, and remained silent. As the train emerged his companion gave a very creditable imitation of the whistle and the tunnel. The tall man smiled sadly. "Ramma Lal," he said, "I envy you your merry disposition. It was in a good moment that I met thee in Bombay, _baboo-jee_. You have served me well in guiding me hither, and in enlivening me on the long journey."