“But how——” A gully, or rather a crease, showed among the rocks at this place; it was scurfy with cactuses. “I suppose the guide helped her.”
“Oh, rather, most helpful.”
“Is there a path off the top?”
“Millions of paths, my dear fellow.”
Fielding could see nothing but the crease. Everywhere else the glaring granite plunged into the earth.
“But you saw them get down safe?”
“Yes, yes, she and Miss Derek, and go off in the car.”
“Then the guide came back to you?”
“Exactly. Got a cigarette?”
“I hope she wasn’t ill,” pursued the Englishman. The crease continued as a nullah across the plain, the water draining off this way towards the Ganges.