The next day a strange thing happened. Tom was busy in camp all the morning, having letters to write and the accounts of his chuprassie to examine and settle. Early in the afternoon he rode into Delhi. He rode in by the Delhi gate, and made straight for the Chandni Chowk, the principal street of the town, where he intended making one or two purchases. Here he dismounted and gave his horse to the syce, who led it behind him. The Chandni Chowk was, in its way, a beautiful thoroughfare. It was very wide, and a double avenue of trees, having a canal of flowing water between them, ran along its centre, while on either side of the street were the stalls and booths where jewellery and curiosity dealers exhibited their wares. It being a Hindu holiday the town was crowded with people dressed in all manners of colours. As Tom walked along under the trees and basked in the golden glory of the evening he enjoyed keenly the life and movement about him. A little body of fat Mohammedan merchants were following him meanwhile with anxious looks, and he was thinking that he must give himself up as a prey to one of them when he heard loud shouting. Looking round to find out what it meant, he saw a smart English carriage drawn by two spirited ponies coming at a tremendous pace along the street. He had scarcely time to see that the driver was a lady before he became aware that a man, whose head and upper limbs were wrapped in a thick chuddah, was right in the way of the horses. In less than a moment he had dashed forward, seized the man, and drawn him back under the trees. In the next moment the horses were pulled back, and he heard a high, clear voice: 'So you are the knight-errant, Mr. Gregory?' 'Miss Leigh,' he cried. 'Vivien!' 'Excuse me,' said the lady, 'Mrs. Doncaster!' 'I beg your pardon; I had forgotten that you were married.' She laughed. 'Are you married too?' 'No,' said Tom shortly. 'What are you doing, then?' 'I am travelling.' Mrs. Doncaster laughed, then turned her pretty head round. 'By the by,' she said lightly, 'where is the unhappy person I nearly ran over? I ought to give him something to soothe his terrors.' 'Pray don't,' said Tom, who had recognised in the scowling passenger his guest of the previous evening. 'He is not a beggar.' 'Oh! isn't he? He looks very much like one, then, and they love money, all of them, the sordid wretches.' 'Here!' she threw out a rupee, 'take that! It's all I can spare, and it will be wealth to you.' She spoke the last words in halting Hindustani. The man whom she addressed--he had been gazing at her fixedly for the last few moments--spurned the coin with his foot, and it fell amongst a group of misshapen, half-naked beggars, who fell upon it fiercely, fighting one with the other for its possession. The noise drew the people together, upon which two or three of the native police ran into the midst of the _mêlée_, shouting and striking right and left. The whole city seemed to be in commotion.