"If war were in Europe you would be taken there to fight," said the
German.
Ranjoor Singh showed no surprise.
"Whether you wanted to fight or not."
There was no hint of laughter in the Sikh's brown eyes.
"Germany has no quarrel with the Sikhs."
"I have heard of none," said Ranjoor Singh.
"Wherever the German flag should fly, after a war, the Sikhs would
have free footing."
Ranjoor Singh looked interested, even pleased.
"Who is not against Germany is for her."
"Let us have plain words' said Ranjoor Singh, leading the way to a
corner in which he judged they could not be overheard; there he
turned suddenly, borrowing a trick from Yasmini.
"I am a Sikh--a patriot. What are you offering?"
"The freedom of the earth!" the German answered. "Self--government!
The right to emigrate. Liberty!"
"On what condition? For a bargain has two sides."
"That the Sikhs fail England!"
"When?"
"When the time comes! What is the answer?"
"I will answer when the time comes," answered Ranjoor Singh,
saluting stiffly before turning on his heel.
Then he stalked out of the room, with a slight bow to Yasmini as he
passed.
"Buffalo!" she murmured after him. "Jat buffalo!"
Then the Germans went away, after some heavy compliments that seemed
to amuse Yasmini prodigiously, helping along the man who had drunk
sherbet and who now seemed inclined to weep.
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