"
"I'll pull a chair up and chat to you till he's--"
"No, Captain Barlow--" Barlow winced at this formality--"Father, I'm
sure, wants you in this matter; in fact, I think a _chuprassi_ is on
his way now to your bungalow with the Resident's salaams."
Barlow laid his fingers on the girl's shoulder: "I'm ghastly tired,
Beth. I'll come back to you."
"Yes, India is enervating," she commented in a flat tone.
Barlow had a curious impression that the girl's grey eyes had turned
yellow as she made this observation.
"Ah, Captain, glad you've come," Hodson said, rising and extending a
hand across a flat-topped desk. "I'm--I'm--well--pull a chair. This
is one Ajeet Singh," and he drooped slightly his thin, lean, bald head
toward the Bagree Chief, who stood stiff and erect, one arm in a sling.
At this, Ajeet, knowing it for an informal introduction, put his hand
to his forehead, and said, "Salaam, Sahib."
"_Tulwar_ play, sir, and an appeal for protection to the British, eh?"
and Barlow indicated the arm in the sling.
Still speaking in English Hodson said: "As to that,--" he pursed his
thin lips,--"something dreadful has happened; this man has been mixed
up in a decoity and has come for protection; he wants to turn Approver.
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