ion together.
Amen!" On second thoughts it would not; for the spire is slippery, the
night is hot, and the Police have been specially careful to warn their
charge that he must not be carried away by the sight of horrors that
cannot be written or hinted at.

"Good morning," says the Policeman tramping the pavement in front of the
Great Eastern, and he nods his head pleasantly to show that he is the
representative of Law and Peace and that the city of Calcutta is safe
from itself for the present.

CHAPTER VIII

CONCERNING LUCIA.

Time must be filled in somehow till five this afternoon, when
Superintendent Lamb will reveal more horrors. Why not, the trams aiding,
go to the Old Park Street Cemetery?

"You want go Park Street? No trams going Park Street. You get out
_here_." Calcutta tram conductors are not polite. The car shuffles
unsympathetically down the street, and the evicted is stranded in
Dhurrumtollah, which may be the Hammersmith Highway of Calcutta.
Providence arranged this mistake, and paved the way to a Great Discovery
now published for the first time. Dhurrumtollah is full of the People of
India, walking in family parties and groups and confidential couples.
And the people of India are neither Hindu nor Mussulman--Jew, Ethiop,
Gueber, or expatriated British. They are the Eurasians, and there are
hundreds and hundreds of them in Dhurrumtollah now. There is Papa with a
shining black hat fit for a counsellor of the Queen, and Mamma, whose
silken dress is tight upon her portly figure, and The Brood made up of
straw-hatted, olive-cheeked, sharp-eyed little boys, and leggy maidens
wearing white, open-work stockings calculated to show dust. There are
the young men who smoke bad cigars and carry themselves lordily--such
as have incomes. There are also the young women with the beautiful eyes
and the wonderful dresses which always fit so badly across the
shoulders. And they carry prayer-books or baskets, because they are
either going to mass or the market. Without doubt, these are the People
of India. They were born in it, bred in it, and will die in it. The
Englishman only comes to the country, and the natives of course were
there from the first, but these people have been made here, and no one
has done anything for them except talk and write about them. Yet they
belong, some of them, to old and honourable families, hold houses in
Sealdah, and are rich, a few of them. They all look prosperous and
contente