One day at Peshawur, a tall, fine-looking Afghan made his appearance at our bungalow, and, having been admitted, entered the drawing-room, and saluting, produced a little black-nosed animal, which was Pug. The armed warrior again saluted, and retired, leaving Polly distracted under a chair, attached to a long chain. She was soon coaxed from her retreat, and took at once to her new mistress, for whom she ever afterwards showed a sort of selfish affection. The tall Afghan was a retainer of the commissioner. His gentle care of his sahib’s children was very remarkable. He was often in attendance on them when they went out to ride or drive; a kindly, gentle warrior he seemed to be. But these Kybaries have strange customs, and one is the ‘blood feud.’ Like the Corsican vendetta, it descends from father to son. This man was one day in the city of Peshawur, where he saw a member of a family with whom he had a blood feud. Perhaps he regretted having come across his enemy, but the very honesty of the bold soldier may have made him feel bound to pursue his foe. Anyway, he followed the man, and on the road to Jumrood overtook him and slew him. Had he waited but a short time, he would have been out of British territory; but the deed had been done in our queen’s dominions, where blood feuds are not recognised by the law. He was imprisoned and tried for murder, the punishment for which is death. Deep regret was felt for the faithful retainer, who, however, was not condemned to die, but to undergo imprisonment for life in the Andaman Islands. Alas! for this mountain warrior, imprisonment was far worse to him than death. Death he despised--but imprisonment! We must look at his position in his own light. We must remember that he was brought up in the faith of blood feuds. We must bring to bear all in his favour _now_, for soon we shall loathe his name. This Afghan mountaineer, this man who was the gentle attendant on children, who carried Pug so carefully into our bungalow at Peshawur, was the murderer of Lord Mayo!