"Oh, go to thunder," said Amber good-naturedly, and went to give
Doggott his orders.
While they waited for the servant to pack his handbag—it being obvious that to take the trunks with them was not feasible; while Quain was to care for Amber's things at Tanglewood until his return from India—Quain was possessed by an idea which he was pleased to christen an inspiration.
"It's this," he explained: "what do you know about Calcutta?"
"Little or nothing. I've been there—that's about all."
"Precisely. Now I know the place, and I know you'll never find this goldsmith in the Machua Bazaar without a guide. The ordinary, common-or-garden guide is out of the question, of course. But I happen to know an Englishman there who knows more about the dark side of India than any other ten men in the world. He'll be invaluable to you, and you can trust him as you would Doggott. Go to him in my name—you'll need no other introduction—and tell him what you've told me."
"That's impossible. Rutton expressly prohibited my mentioning his name to any one in India."
"Oh, very well. You haven't, have you? And you won't have to. I'll take care of that, when I write and tell Labertouche you're coming."
"What name?"
"Labertouche. Why? You don't know him."
"No; but Rutton did. Rutton got that poison from him."