n.

Right or wrong--that was how Roy saw it. And the argument seemed
psychologically sound. Cruel to be kind, he must touch the point of
pain; draw the hidden thing into the open; and so reawaken the old Dyan,
who could arraign the new one far more effectually than could Roy
himself or another. Seized with his idea, he indulged in a more hopeful
letter to Aruna; and had scarcely patience to wait for Sunday.

* * * * *

In leisurely course it arrived--that last Sunday of the Great War. The
Chandni Chowk was a-bubble with strange and stirring rumours; but the
day waned and the evening waned--and no Dyan appeared.

On Monday morning--still no word: but news, so tremendous, flashed half
across the world, that Dyan and his mysterious defection flickered like
a match at midday.

The War was over--virtually over. From the Vosges to the sea, not the
crack of a rifle nor the moan of a shell; only an abrupt, dramatic
silence--the end! Belief in the utter cessation of all that wonderful
and terrible activity, penetrated slowly. And as it penetrated Roy
realised, with something like dismay, that the right and natural sense
of elation simply was not. He actually felt depressed. Shrink as he
might from the jar of conflict, the sure instinct of a soldier race
warned him that hell holds no fury and earth no danger like a ruthless
enemy not decisively smitten. The psychology of it was beyond
him--shrouded in mystery.

Not till long afterwards did he know how many, in England and Prance,
had shared his bewildered feeling; how British soldiers in Belgium had
cried like children, had raged almost to the point of mutiny. But one
thing he knew--steeped as he was in the sub-strata of Eastern thought
and feeling. India would never understand. Visible, spectacular victory,
alone could impress the East: and such an impression might have
counteracted many mistakes that had gone before....

Tuesday brought no Dyan; only a scrawled note: "Sorry--too much
business. Can't come just now." _If_ one could take that at its face
value----! But it might mean anything. Had Chandranath found out--and
had Dyan not the moral courage to go his own way?

He knew by now where his cousin lodged; but had never been there. It was
in one of the oldest parts of the city; alive with political intrigue.
If Roy's nationality were suspected, 'things' might happen, and it was
clearly unfair on his father to run needless risks. But th