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CONTENTS

[Prologue.]
Chapter
i.[The Totalisator.]
ii.[The Kite-Flyers.]
iii.[Cobwebs.]
iv.[An Unforgotten Past.]
v.[Shark Lane.]
vi.[The Money of Fools.]
vii.[Crackers and Squibs.]
viii.[The Temple of Viseshawar.]
ix.[Uncertainties.]
x.[The Sinews of War.]
xi.[The Spirit of Kings and Slaves.]
xii.[A Mother's Dirge.]
xiii.[A Valse à deux temps.]
xiv.[In the Toils.]
xv.[The Râm Rucki.]
xvi.[The Prison of Life.]
xvii.[The Pen and the Sword.]
xviii.[The Freedom of Death.]
xix.[On the Bed Rock.]
xx.[The Old Wine.]
xxi.[Red Paint.]
xxii.[The Better Part.]
xxiii.[A Memorable Occasion.]
xxiv.[The Sovereignty of Air.]
xxv.[Secret Despatches.]
xxvi.[Fair Odds.]

[PROLOGUE]

The new year was already some hours old, but the world to which it had come was still dark. Dark with a curious obscurity, that was absolutely opaque yet faintly luminous, because of the white fog which lay on all things and hid them from the stars; for the sky above was clear, cold, almost frosty.

That was why the fog, born, not of cool vapour seeking for cloud life among the winds of heaven, but of hot smoke loving the warmth of dust and ashes, clung so closely to the earth; to its birthplace.

It was an acrid, bitter smoke, not even due to the dead hearthfires of a dead day, since they--like all else pertaining to the domestic life of India--give small outward sign of existence, but to the smouldering piles of litter and refuse which are lit every evening upon the outskirts of human habitation. Dull heaps with a minimum of fire, a maximum of smoke, where the humanity which has produced the litter, the refuse, gathers for gossip or for warmth.

Even in the fields beyond the multitude of men, where some long-limbed peasant, watching his hope of harvest, dozes by a solitary fire, this same smoke rises in a solid column, until--beaten down by the colder moister air above--it drifts sideways to spread like a vast cobweb over the dew-set carpet of green corn.

So it was small wonder if here, at Nushapore, with its fifty thousand and odd dwellers in cantonments, its two hundred and odd thousand dwellers in the town, the smoke fog hid earth from heaven; hid even the steady coming of day.