"May I offer you a cigarette and light one myself?" said the "black" man in his quiet cultured voice.
"I don't want yer fags—and I don't want you smoking while I got a empty stummick," replied the Englishman.
Anon the train strolled into an accidental-looking station with an air of one who says, "Let's sit down for a bit—what?" and Horace sprang to the window and bawled for the guard.
"'Ere—ask this native for 'is ticket," he said, on the arrival of that functionary. "Wot's 'e doing in 'ere with me?"
"Ticket, please?" said the guard—a very black Goanese.
The Pathan produced his ticket.
"Will you kindly see if there is another empty first-class carriage,
Guard?" said he.
"There iss one next a'door," replied the guard.
"Then you can escape from your unpleasant predicament by going in there,
Sir," said the Pathan.
"I shall remine where I ham," was the dignified answer.