The young Maharajah nodded his head and smiled.
“Yes,” he said, “come up to our room. We ought to dress, oughtn’t we, to see the procession? I say, I don’t know how it is, I always like fighting against any one who tries to bully. I am not sorry that war has begun.”
“Neither am I,” said the English lad quietly, “for things have been very unpleasant ever since we came here, and when we’ve got this over perhaps we shall be at peace.”
Chapter Three.
The Prince’s Regalia.
The bedroom shared by Glyn Severn and Singh was one of a series, small and particularly comfortable, in the new annexe the Doctor had built expressly for lecture-room and dormitories when his establishment began to increase.
The comfortably furnished room just sufficed for two narrow beds and the customary furniture; and as soon as the two lads had entered, Singh hurried to his chest of drawers, unlocked one, took out a second bunch of keys to that he carried in his pocket, and was then crossing to a sea-going portmanteau standing in one corner, when Glyn, who was looking very thoughtful and abstracted, followed, and as Singh knelt down and threw open the travelling-case, laid his hand upon the lad’s shoulder. “What are you going to do?” he said shortly. “Only look out two or three things that there’s not room for in the drawer.”
“What for?”