“I am not quite clear on that point,” answered Gordon, thoughtfully. “I think that the great error of the English has been in treating the natives as if they were not possessed of common intelligence. Depend upon it, it is a mistaken policy, which we shall some day rue.” “Nonsense, old fellow. You are a greenhorn yet in the country, and in a very short time these sentimental ideas will be knocked out of you. There is no doubt that the _canaille_ of India is bitter against us, but the upper classes are loyal to the backbone--take Dhoondu Pdnt as an example.” “You mean the man who is known as Nana Sahib of Bhitoor?” “Yes; he is the adopted son of the Peishwah Bajee Rao. Now, if any man has cause to be dissatisfied with our rule it is the Nana, inasmuch as we have resolutely refused to recognise his right to succession. Moreover, he is a Mahratta by race, and a Brahmin by caste. Now, it is well-known that in the heart of every Mahratta there is an innate and hereditary hatred for the English, while the Brahmin religion teaches its votaries to look upon the Feringhees as dogs and infidels that, in the name of the Prophet, should be exterminated. And yet his highness--by courtesy--is as loyal to us as a man can possibly be. His balls and dinners given to his friends, the English, in and about Cawnpore, are things to be remembered.” “But what proof have you that the Nana is not playing a well-studied game; only biding his time to execute a well-planned _coup-d’état_, and strike for his home and liberty?” Harper laughed loudly as he looked at his friend’s serious face; and as he offered him a cheroot, exclaimed-- “Bosh! Look here, old fellow, don’t get such ideas as those into your head, or you will never succeed in India. Here, Khitmudgar, brandy pawnee lao.” Turning to the ladies, he said, “Flo, I think you have been putting some strange ideas into Walter’s head, and I shall have to take you to task. Why, my dear fellow, there is no more chance of the natives rising here, than there is of Her Majesty’s Life Guards revolting in London at the present moment. Come, what do you say to a hand at whist? Em and I have two hours on our hands before we return to quarters.” “Whist, by all means,” Walter answered. “Flo, will you order one of the bearers to get the card-table ready in the drawing-room?” In a few minutes the four Europeans were apparently so absorbed in the game, that all thought of danger was banished. A sleepy Coolie sat on one side of the room, and with monotonous regularity pulled the cord of the punkah, that, moving gracefully backwards and forwards, made a cool and refreshing draught. Without all was silent. Only the drowsy whir of the insects, and the sweetly mellow notes of the bul-bul rose on the stagnant air. FOOTNOTE: [1] The Great White Hand (_Baṛā Safed Hāth_), a saying current in India to describe the power of the English. CHAPTER II. THE MYSTERY OF THE CHUPATTIES.