“And I may be a highwayman for what you know,” he returned, with a laugh. “I give you my word of honour that, if you will allow me to carry it, I will not rob you.”
“I did not mean that,” she stammered.
“Then what did you mean? At any rate I mean to keep it. The other passengers are on ahead—I suppose you are quite alone?”
“Almost. There is a servant in the train who is supposed to look after me, but I am looking after him, and seeing that he is not left behind at the different junctions. We cannot understand one word we exchange, so he grins and gesticulates, and I nod and point; but it all comes to nothing, or worse than nothing. I wanted some tea this morning, and he brought me whisky and soda.”
“And have you no one to rely on but this intelligent attendant?”
“No. The people I came out with changed at Khandala, and left me in charge of the guard, and in a through carriage to Allahabad; and of course we never expected this.”
“So you have just come out from home?” he observed, as they walked along at a good pace.
“Yes; arrived yesterday morning in the Arcadia.”
“Then this is the first time you have actually set foot on Indian soil, for trains and gharries do not count?”
“It is. Are there”—looking nervously at the wild expanse on either hand—“any tigers about, do you think?”