Coomara had been married to Bopaul's sister when he was ten years old; hence the link that bound the three men together. The period of exile appointed by their respective parents was within a few months of its termination, and they were looking forward to their return to Chirakul, when the ceremonies necessary to restore their caste would be performed and Coomara's wedding be completed; for his marriage had been practically only a betrothal from the European point of view. The honeymoon had yet to be spent. CHAPTER II The run to London by the express was to occupy an hour. As Wenaston and his companions entered the station the train stood ready by the platform. There was a rush for the carriages, and before they could make their way to a first-class smoker, every seat was occupied. A number of people were in the same case as themselves, being unable to find places. He stopped an official and asked when the next train would start. "A duplicate will be put on as soon as this has been sent off. There will be plenty of room in that, sir." A quarter of an hour later they were comfortably seated in a compartment which they had to themselves. The train ran smoothly and conversation was possible. The Englishman alone smoked. To the high-caste Hindu the replacing of the cigar in the mouth after it has touched the tongue and lips is an offence against caste. The men had no objection, however, to the smoke made by another. "I suppose there was no doubt about the man being dead?" said Ananda, as they again discussed the event of the day. "None whatever," replied Bopaul. "I heard it announced by a member of the committee, who gave it out as a reason for stopping all further aviation. The competitions were over, and the programme completed. The man was only marking time, so to speak, just to keep the people amused." "He offered to do it, I heard," remarked Ananda. "With the wind increasing he ought not to have been allowed to take such a risk," said Wenaston. "It is waste of life to hurl a man into eternity for such a trivial reason." "Hurl a man into eternity," repeated Ananda slowly, his dreamy eyes fixed upon the speaker. "Oh, well; that's just a way of talking. I meant the life after death," replied Wenaston, slightly taken aback. "The life? You don't mean re-incarnation; trans-migration is not one of your doctrines of belief. You mean life elsewhere?" "Yes, in the future--in another world." "Do you really believe that you will have a personality--that you can retain the _ego_ that is in you now--when you enter any other world but this?" "I hope so. We are taught by our religion that something of the sort is to take place. What is your belief?" asked Wenaston, turning the conversation on to Hinduism. Before Ananda could reply, Coomara, assertive in the stronghold of his steadfast faith, spoke. "We believe that after a long succession of rebirths on this earth we shall be absorbed in the Deity."