He jumped out of bed and removed the barricade. Barclay entered in his pyjamas. Lowering his voice he said:
"Anything happen during the night?"
"I don't think so. I slept soundly and heard nothing. You're up early," replied the soldier, picking up the blankets and sheets from the floor and spreading them carelessly on the bed to make it look as if he had used them.
"Yes; those infernal birds make such a confounded row. It's like being in an aviary," said Barclay.
Dermot threw open the wooden shutters. Outside the window was a small balcony. On the roofs and verandahs of the Palace scores of grey-hooded crows were perched, filling the air with discordant sounds. Up in the pale blue sky the wheeling hawks whistled shrilly. Down in the courtyard below yellow-beaked mynas chattered volubly.
"Don't they make a beastly row? How is a fellow to sleep?" grumbled Barclay. "Look at that cheeky beggar."
A hooded crow perched on the railing of the balcony and, apparently resenting his remarks, cawed defiantly at him. The Deputy Superintendent picked up one of Dermot's slippers and was about to hurl it at the bird, when a voice from the doorway startled him.
"Char, Huzoor! (Tea, Your Excellency!)"
He looked round. One of the Palace servants stood at the door holding a tray containing tea and buttered toast.
Dermot directed the man to put the tray on the dressing-table, and when the servant had salaamed and left the room, he walked over to it and looked at the food.