"
Barlow laughed; indeed the grizzled one had perception--he was an
accomplice in the plot of secrecy.
"Good! Eggs and toast and tea. Demand plenty--say your Sahib is
hungry because of a long ride and nothing to eat. But hurry, I hear
the 'seven sisters' (crows) calling to sleepers that the sun is here
with its warmth."
Then the bearer entered, but Barlow ordered him away, saying, "Sit
without till I call."
As he slipped into breeches and brown riding boots he cursed softly the
entanglement that had thrust upon him this thing of ill flavour. Of
course the watchman, even if he did keep his mouth shut, which would be
a miracle in that land of bazaar gossip, would have but one opinion of
why Bootea had spent the night in the bungalow. But if Barlow squared
this by speaking of a secret mission, that would be a knowledge that
could be exchanged for gold. Perhaps not all servants were spies, but
there were always spies among servants.
"Damn the thing!" he muttered; but he was helpless. The old man would
give no sign of what, no doubt, was in his mind; he would hold that
leathery face in placid acquiescence in prevalent moral vagary.
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