room, with moths of a hundred species irritating him by noisy self-
immolation against the oil lamp-whose smoke made matters worse
by being sucked up at odd moments by the punkah, pulled jerkily by
a new man. Most aggravating circumstance of all, perhaps, was that
the movement of the punkah flickered his papers away whenever he
removed a weight. Yet he could not study them unless he spread
them all in front of him; and without the punkah he felt he would die
of apoplexy. He had to reach a decision before midnight.

Babu Sita Ram was supposed to be sitting tinder a punkah in the next
room, with a locked door between him and his master. He was staying
late, by special request and as a special favor, to copy certain very
important but not too secret documents in time for the courier next day.
There were just as many insects to annoy him, and the punkah flapped
his papers too; but fat though he was, and sweat though he did, his
smile was the smile of a hunter. From time to time he paused from
copying, stole silently to the door between the offices, gingerly removed
a loose knot from a panel, and clapped to the hole first one, and then
the other avidious brown eye.

Samson wished to goodness there was some one he dared consult with.
There were other Englishmen, of course, but they were all ambitious
like himself. He felt that his prospects were at stake. News had reached
the State Department (by channels Sita Ram could have uncovered
for him) that Gungadhura was intriguing with tribes beyond the northwest frontier.

The tribes were too far away to come in actual touch with Sialpore,
although they were probably too wild and childish to appreciate that fact.
The point was that Gungadhura was said to be promising them armed
assistance from the British rear--assistance that he never would possibly