The lady laughed. “That sounds like poor dear Mr. Gribton. I suppose you remember him? He left here in the summer, but when he lived in Bardur he had got that northern frontier-line on the brain. He was a horrible bore, for he would always work the conversation round to it sooner or later. I think it was really Mr. Gribton who made people often lose interest in these questions. They had to assume an indolent attitude in pure opposition to his fussiness.”
“When will your husband be home?” Lewis asked.
“In two days, or possibly three. I am so sorry about it. I’ll wire at once, but it’s a slow journey, especially if he is bringing ponies. Of course you want to see him before you start. It’s such a pity, but Bardur is fearfully empty of men just now. Captain Thwaite has gone off after ibex, and though I think he will be back to-morrow, I am afraid he will be too late for my dance. Oh, really, this is lucky. I had forgotten all about it. Of course you two will come. That will make two more men, and we shall be quite a respectable party. We are having a dance to-morrow night, and as the English people here are so few and uncertain in their movements we can’t afford to miss a chance. You must come. I’ve got the Thwaites and the Beresfords and the Waltons, and some of the garrison people who are down on leave. Oh, and there’s a man coming whom you must know. A Mr. Marker, a most delightful person. I don’t think you met him before, but you must have heard my husband talk about him. He is the very man for your purpose. Gilbert says he knows the hills better than any of the Hunza tribesmen, and that he is the best sportsman he ever met. Besides, he is such an interesting person, very much a man of the world, you know, who has been everywhere and knows everybody.”
Lewis congratulated himself on his luck. “I should like very much to come to the dance, and I especially want to meet Mr. Marker.”
“He is half Scotch, too,” said the lady. “His mother was a Kirkpatrick or some name like that, and he actually seems to talk English with a kind of Scotch accent. Of course that may be the German part of him. He is a Pomeranian count or something of the sort, and very rich. You might get him to go with you into the hills.”
“I wish we could,” said Lewis falsely. His curiosity was keenly excited.
“Why does he come up here such a lot?” George asked.
“I suppose because he likes to ‘knock about,’ as you call it. He is a tremendous traveller. He has been into Tibet and all over Turkestan and Persia. Gilbert says that he is the wonder of the age.”
“Is he here just now?”
“No, I don’t think so. I know he is coming to-morrow, because he wrote me about it, and promised to come to my dance. But he is a very busy man, so I don’t suppose he will arrive till just before. He wrote me from Gilgit, so he may find Gilbert there and bring him up with him.”