e
doorway into the ball-room whence the music swelled. The note of regret
was louder than ever in his ears, and dominated the melody. To-morrow the
lights, the delicate frocks, the laughing voices and bright eyes would be
gone. The violins spoke to him of that morrow of blank emptiness softly
and languorously like one making a luxury of grief. In a week's time he
would be setting his face towards Chiltistan; and, in spite of the brave
words he had used to Violet Oliver, once more the question forced itself
into his mind.

"Do I belong here?" he asked. "Or do I belong to Chiltistan?"

On the one side was all that during ten years he had gradually learned to
love and enjoy; on the other side was his race and the land of his birth.
He could not answer the question; for there was a third possibility which
had not yet entered into his speculations, and in that third possibility
alone was the answer to be found.

CHAPTER XI

AT THE GATE OF LAHORE

Shere Ali, accordingly, travelled with reluctance to Bombay, and at that
port an anonymous letter with the postmark of Calcutta was brought to him
on board the steamer. Shere Ali glanced through it, and laughed, knowing
well his countrymen's passion for mysteries and intrigues. He put the
letter in his pocket and took the northward mail. These were the days
before the North-West Province had been severed from the Punjab, and
instructions had been given to Shere Ali to break his journey at Lahore.
He left the train, therefore, at that station, on a morning when the
thermometer stood at over a hundred in the shade, and was carried in a
barouche drawn by camels to Government House. There a haggard and
heat-worn Commissioner received him, and in the cool of the evening took
him for a ride, giving him sage advice with the accent of authority.

"His Excellency would have liked to have seen you himself," said the
Commissioner. "But he is in the Hills and he did not think it necessary
to take you so far out of your way. It is as well that you should get to
Kohara as soon as possible, and on particular subjects the Resident,
Captain Phillips, will be able and glad to advise you."

The Commissioner spoke politely enough, but the accent of authority was
there. Shere Ali's ears were quick to notice and resent it. Some years
had passed since commands had been laid upon him.

"I shall always be glad to hear what Captain Phillips has to say," he
replied stiffly.

"Yes, yes, of c