“So we cannot be at the Inche Maida’s seat.”
“No; I suppose this is a sort of private, lodge or hunting-box somewhere away in the jungle.”
“Yes; a place of retreat in case of danger.”
Then there was a pause, during which the prisoners sat gazing through the bars of the window at the glories of the sky, Chumbley disgusting his friend by continuously spitting.
“The Princess’s home is on the right bank of the river,” said Hilton, at last.
“Granted, oh! Solomon the wise!”
“Ergo” continued Hilton, “we are upon the right bank of the river.”
“Unless her ladyship’s dominions extend to the other side.”
“Take it for granted that they do not,” said Hilton.
“What then?”