The man fumbled hurriedly in the folds of his surtout, darting quick glances of apprehension round the garden. Amber looked him over as closely as he could in the dim light, but found him wholly a stranger—merely a low-caste Hindu, counterpart of a million others to be encountered daily in the highways and bazaars of India. The Virginian's rising hope that he might prove to be Labertouche failed for want of encouragement; the intruder was of a stature the Englishman could by no means have counterfeited.
"From whom come you?" he demanded in the vernacular.
"Nay, a name that is unspoken harms none, sahib." The native produced a small, thin, flat package and thrust it into Amber's hands. "With permission, I go, sahib; it were unwise to linger——"
"There is no answer?"
"None, sahib." The man salaamed and strode away, seeming to melt soundlessly into the foliage.
For a minute Amber remained astare. The girl's voice alone roused him.
"I think you are a very interesting person, Mr. Amber," she said, resuming her chair.
"Well!… I begin to think this a most uncommonly interesting country." He laughed uncertainly, turning the package over and over. "Upon my word——! I haven't the least notion what this can be!"
"Why not bring it to the light, and find out?"
He assented meekly, having been perfectly candid in his assertion that he had no suspicion of what the packet might contain, and a moment later they stood beneath the window of the Residency, from which a broad shaft of light streamed out like vaporised gold.