her high."

"O Excellency," said the smooth voice of Farag, laying the Field and
Country Life square on the table, "is the afflicted of God who resembles
Bigglebai one with the man whom the Inspector met in the great house in
England, and to whom he told the tale of the Mudir's Cranes?"

"The same man, Farag," said the Inspector.

"I have often heard the Inspector tell the tale to Our Excellency at
feeding-time in the kennels; but since I am in the Government service
I have never told it to my people. May I loose that tale among the
villages?"

* * * * *

The Governor nodded. "No harm," said he.

The details of Mr. Groombride's arrival, with his interpreter, whom he
proposed should eat with him at the Governor's table, his allocution
to the Governor on the New Movement, and the sins of Imperialism, I
purposely omit. At three in the afternoon Mr. Groombride said: "I will
go out now and address your victims in this village."

"Won't you find it rather hot?" said the Governor. "They generally take
'a nap till sunset at this time of year."

Mr. Groombride's large, loose lips set. "That," he replied pointedly,
"would be enough to decide me. I fear you have not quite mastered your
instructions. May I ask you to send for my interpreter? I hope he has
not been tampered with by your subordinates."

He was a yellowish boy called Abdul, who had well eaten and drunk with
Farag. The Inspector, by the way, was not present at the meal.

"At whatever risk, I shall go unattended," said Mr. Groombride. "Your
presence would cow them--from giving evidence. Abdul, my good friend,
would you very kindly open the umbrella?"

He passed up the gang-plank to the village, and with no more prelude
than a Salvation Army picket in a Portsmouth slum, cried: "Oh, my
brothers!"

He did not guess how his path had been prepared. The village was
widely awake. Farag, in loose, flowing garments, quite unlike a kennel
huntsman's khaki and puttees, leaned against the wall of his uncle's
house. "Come and see the afflicted of God," he cried musically, "whose
face, indeed, resembles that of Bigglebai."

The village came, and decided that on the whole Farag was right.

"I can't quite catch what they are saying," said Mr. Groombride.

"They saying they very much pleased to see you, Sar," Adbul interpreted.

"Then I do think they might have sent a deputation to the steamer; but
I suppose they were frightened of the officia