"Is the kind of gold mentioned?"

"How many kinds are there?"

He gained thirty seconds for reflection by lighting a cigar, and decided
to change his ground.

"I know nothing of geology, I'm afraid. I wonder if your husband knows
about the so-called islands? There are patches of British territory,
administered directly by us, within the maharajah's boundaries; and
little islands of native territory administered by the maharajah's government
within the British sphere."

"Something like our Indian reservations, I suppose?"

"Not exactly, but the analogy will do. If your husband were to find gold--
of any kind--on one of our 'islands' within the maharajah's territory, his
contract with the maharajah would be useless."

"Are the boundaries of the islands clearly marked?"

"Not very. They're known, of course, and recorded. There's an old
fort on one of them, garrisoned by a handful of British troops--a constant
source of heart-burn, I believe, to Gungadhura. He can see the top of
the flag-staff from his palace roof; a predecessor of mine had the pole
lengthened, I'm told. On the other hand, there's a very pretty little palace
over on our side of the river with about a half square mile surrounding
it that pertains to the native State. Your husband could dig there, of course.
There's no knowing that it might not pay--if he's looking for more kinds
of gold than one."