“Naturally, but injudiciously, Mr. Fuller. If the British Raj ended, my unhappy country would become the cockpit of contending hosts. We are too divided in India to rule ourselves, and the great powers would interfere, so that we should only exchange King Stork for Queen Log, or the reverse, as I forget the exact details of the fable. But what I mean is that England is a better ruler of our country than Germany or Russia would be.” “Your sentiments are very liberal, Mr. Bakche.” “I have read history,” replied the other. “Believe me, Mr. Fuller, that if people only read history more carefully so many mistakes would not be made in this world. The past life of nations is more or less only what the future will be, making reasonable allowance for development.” Bakche talked on this strain for some time, and displayed a great knowledge of history, and betrayed a shrewd observation of men and manners, so that Alan found the conversation very enjoyable. Later on, his companion became particular after general, and gave a few hints about his family. “At the time of the Mutiny my grandfather was the Rajah of Kam, which was a little-known state which is in the Madras presidency. That is, it was.” “Was,” repeated Fuller, surprised, “a state cannot vanish out of existence, Mr. Bakche, since it is land and——” “Oh, the land is still there and the villages and towns. But the name has been changed and my family have been turned out. I am the sole member left alive, Mr. Fuller. But I have no ambition to get back our former royalty.” “But I understood from Miss Grison that you had come to England on a mission of that sort.” “The good lady is wrong again. I want no forfeited title, but I do want certain property.” “I see. So you are applying to the Government?” “No,” said Mr. Bakche unexpectedly and somewhat grimly, “my property cannot be recovered by the Government. I have to search for it myself. It is——” Here he checked himself. “But I don’t see why I should trouble you with all this dry talk.” “It is most interesting, I assure you,” Alan assured him quite truthfully. “Then we must resume it on another occasion,” said Bakche, rising. “I have to keep an appointment. Perhaps I shall see you again here.” “Possibly, but if I do not come again here is my card.” Fuller passed along his business address. “I shall be glad to see you at any time.” Bakche glanced at the card ponderingly. “You are a solicitor, I see. It is probable that I may want a solicitor.” “I am at your service.” “You may not be when you know what I want,” said the Indian dryly, and with a sudden gleam in his dark eyes. “However I am glad that I have met you, and perhaps I may call and see you. Good-night, sir,” and with a grave bow Morad-Bakche took his departure from the room which was now almost empty.