"We have got most, though," added his host. "I daresay it's because our engineer is a Hindu. His name is Chunerbutty."
"Sounds as if he were a Bengali Brahmin himself," said Dermot.
"He is. His father holds an appointment in the service of the Rajah of Lalpuri, a native State in Eastern Bengal not far from here. The son is an old friend of ours. I met him first in London."
"In fact, it was through Mr. Chunerbutty that we came here," said Noreen. "He gave Fred an introduction to this company."
Dermot reflected. He felt that if these men were really Bengali Brahmins, their coming to the district to labour as coolies demanded investigation. Their race furnishes the extremist and disloyal element in India, and any of them residing on these gardens would be conveniently placed to act as channels of communication between enemies without and traitors within. He felt that it would be advisable for him to talk the matter over with some of the older planters.
"Who is your manager here?" he enquired.
"A Welshman named Parry."
"Are you far from Salchini?"
"You mean Payne's garden? Yes; a good way. He's a friend of yours, isn't he?"
"Yes; I should like to see him again. I must pay him a visit."