When Chunerbutty entered the apartment the _Dewan_, without any greeting indicated him, saying: "This, Mr. Macgregor, is an example of what all we Indians shall be when relieved of the tyranny of British officials and allowed to govern ourselves." His English was perfect. The bearer of the historic Highland name, whose appearance suggested rather a Hebrew patronymic, removed from his mouth the cigar that he was smoking and asked in a guttural voice: "Who is the young man?" The _Dewan_ briefly explained, then, turning to Chunerbutty, he said: "This is Mr. Donald Macgregor, M.P., a member of the Labour Party and a true friend of India. You may speak freely before him. Sit down." The engineer looked around in vain for another chair. The _Dewan_ said sharply in Bengali, using the familiar, and in this case contemptuous, "thou": "Sit on the floor, as thy fathers before thee have done, as thou didst thyself before thou began to think thyself an Englishman and despise thy country and its ways." Chunerbutty collapsed and sat down hastily on a mat. Then in English the _Dewan_ continued: "Have you any news?" "No; I have forwarded as they came all letters and messengers from Bhutan. The troops--" He stopped and looked at the Member of Parliament. "Continue. There is no need of secrecy before Mr. Macgregor," said the _Dewan_. "I have said that he is a friend of India." "It's all right, my boy," added the Hebrew Highlander encouragingly. "I am a Pacifist and a socialist. I don't hold with soldiers or with keeping coloured races enslaved. 'England for English and India for the Indians' is my motto." "Well, I have already informed you that there is no truth in the reports that troops were to be sent again to Buxa Duar," said Chunerbutty, reassured. "On the frontier there are only the two hundred Military Police at Ranga Duar. They are Punjaubi Mohammedans. I made the acquaintance of the officer commanding them last night." "Ah! What is he like?" enquired the _Dewan_, interested. "Inquisitive, but a fool--like all these officers," replied the engineer contemptuously. "He noticed Narain Dass on our garden and saw that he was a Bengali. He learned that others of us were employed on our estate and was surprised that Brahmins should do coolie work. But he suspected nothing." "You are sure?" asked the _Dewan_. "Quite certain." The _Dewan_ shook his head doubtfully. "These English officers are not always the fools they seem," he observed. "We must keep an eye on this inquisitive person. Now, how goes the work among the garden coolies? Are they ripe for revolt?" "Not yet on all the estates. They are ignorant cattle, and to them the Motherland means nothing. But on our garden our greatest helper is the manager, a drunken bully. He ill-treats the coolies and nearly kicked one to death the other day." "That's how the Englishman always treats the native, isn't it?" asked the Hebrew representative of an English constituency.