“Possibly. Well, we’ll deal with him to-morrow.”
CHAPTER XI.
BEHIND THE CURTAIN.
As soon as Dick awoke in the morning, his talk with Georgia recurred to his mind, and looking out of his dressing-room window, he called to Ismail Bakhsh, whom he saw in the compound. From his long connection with the family, the old soldier was regarded as the head of the household staff.
“Has that sweetseller turned up yet, Ismail Bakhsh?”
“No, sahib, I have not seen him this morning.”
“Well, when he does, you can detain him. I want to ask him a question or two.”
“The thing is done, sahib. If the protector of the poor would listen to a word from this unworthy one——”
“Yes; what is it?”
“It was in my mind yesterday, sahib, to examine all the verandahs, lest the storm should have shaken the pillars, and in so doing I found that the work of the rats under the floors has been great and very evil. Surely there are many places in which the planks are loose and easy to be moved, but on this side of the house it is the worst. Before the Kumpsioner Sahib’s rooms a man might even squeeze himself in and hide under the verandah floor.”
“We shall never get rid of the rats until we have proper cement floors—and it’s no good thinking of that now,” added Dick, half to himself. “But are you sure there’s nothing worse than rats about, Ismail Bakhsh? I don’t like the idea of that hole.”