"You don't live in Calcutta?"
Making conversation, he thought.
"My home is the world." Then, specifically, "I live in London. I represent a diamond firm."
Before she spoke he knew quite well what she was going to say.
"Jewels always fascinate me. Isn't it frightful about the gems that were stolen?"
"Rather," was the close-mouthed reply.
"Just fancy losing all those jewels!" she went on. "My brother said they are worth millions or lakhs and lakhs of rupees, to be proper. I suppose it's the work of this Chavigny who's reported to be at large. You've heard of him, haven't you?"
He answered in the affirmative and, inwardly, expressed relief that they were nearing the end of the ride.
"I can't ever thank you enough," she told him as they left the gharry and entered the hotel.
In the better light he saw her eyes for the first time and explored a new dimension of strength and dignity. He felt as though he looked into the rich glow of autumn forests, spaces of warmth and color and spirit—an initiation into the sense of discovery and lofty exhilaration that Balboa must have known when he gazed upon the shining expanse of an unknown sea. It was a glimpse into some high arcanum—to him new, but to the world as ancient as the tale of Cana of Galilee.