He reached the corner. The soft glow of a night-lamp lay across the verandah. The window was open. He paused a second, then strode softly up and looked in. A bamboo-screen was pulled across the room, hiding the bed. The lamp was burning behind it. As Max stood at the window, a turbaned figure came silently round the screen. It was the figure of an old man, grey-bearded, slightly bent, clad in a long native garment. For a moment he stood, then stepped to the window and closed it swiftly in Max's face. So sudden and so noiseless was the action that Max was taken wholly by surprise. He did not so much as know whether his presence had been observed. Then the blind came down with the same noiseless rapidity, and he was left in darkness. Mindful of the mysterious visitor in the compound, he turned about and felt his way back to the corner of the bungalow, deciding that the lighted drawing-room was preferable to the dark verandah. Reaching the corner and within sight of the lamplight, he stopped again and listened. But the compound was still and to all appearance deserted. He waited for a full minute, but heard no sound beyond a faint stirring of the night-wind in the cypresses. Slowly at length he turned and retraced his steps, contemptuously wondering if the mysterious East had tampered with his nerves. It was evident that his host had retired for the night with the assistance of his bearer, and he decided to follow his example. He closed and bolted the windows and went to his own room. CHAPTER XIV SMOKE FROM THE FIRE "It always used to be regarded as anything but a model State," smiled Major Hunt-Goring, as he lay in a long chair and watched Daisy's busy fingers at work on a frock for Peggy. "I suppose our friend Nicholas Ratcliffe has changed all that, however. A queer little genius--Nick." "He is my husband's and my greatest friend," said Daisy. "Really!" Hunt-Goring laughed silkily. "Do you know, Mrs. Musgrave, that's the fifth time you have mentioned your husband in as many minutes? If I remember aright, he used not to be so often on your lips." Daisy glanced up momentarily. "And now," she said, "he is never out of my thoughts." "Really!" Hunt-Goring said again. He looked at her very attentively for a few seconds before he relaxed again with eyes half-closed. "That is _tres convenant_ for you both," he observed. "I enjoy the unusual spectacle of a wife who is happy as well as virtuous." Daisy stitched on in silence. Privately she wondered how she had ever come to be on intimate terms with the man, and condemned afresh the follies of her youth. "Have you been Home since I had the pleasure of your society at Mahalaleshwar I will not say how many years ago?" asked Hunt-Goring, after a pause. "I went Home the following year," said Daisy. "We thought--we hoped--it would make our baby boy more robust to have a summer in England." "Oh, have you a boy?" said Hunt-Goring, without much interest. "He died," said Daisy briefly.