CHAPTER V
INTERLUDE
Calcutta was luxuriating in the amber and blue of a clear day when Trent detrained in the Howrah Station the following morning; detrained as Mr. Robert Tavernake of London, in light gray tweeds, instead of Major Arnold Trent of Gaya, whose military trappings, with his identity, were secreted in a trunk.
As he neared the front arches of the building, with a porter in tow, he was hailed by a drill-clad officer.
"Hello, Trent!" exclaimed the uniformed one, whom he recognized as a former messmate. "Quo vadis, you old mummy?"
Trent, not blind to the fact that he was being eyed by a native in horn-rimmed spectacles and a pink turban, returned the greeting with a polite smile.
"Sorry," he said; "You must be mistaken"—and walked on.
"Crazy?" wondered the surprised officer, "or am I?"
He stared at Trent's gray back and sunburnt neck—and he was not the only one, for at least two others did.