Warrington began to hum to himself. And then he ceased from humming.
Then he set the lantern down and stepped away from it sidewise until
its light no longer shone on him. He listened, as a dog does, with
intelligence and skill. Then, suddenly, he sprang and lit on a bulky
mass that yielded--gasped--spluttered--did anything but yell.
"So you rode on the luggage-rack behind the carriage, did you,
_babuji?_" he smiled. "And curled under the apron to look like
luggage when we passed the guard, eh?"
"But, my God, sahib!" said a plaintive voice. "Should I walk through
Delhi naked? You, who wear pants, you laugh at me, but I assure you,
sahib--"
"Hush!" ordered Warrington; and the babu seemed very glad to hush.
"There was a note in a corner of that cloth of yours!"
"And the sahib found it? Oh, then I am relieved. I am preserved from
pangs of mutual regret!"
"Why didn't you give that note to Colonel Kirby sahib when you had
the chance? Eh?" asked Warrington, keeping firm hold of him.
"Sahib! Your honor! Not being yet remunerated on account of ring and
verbal message duly delivered, commercial precedent was all on my
side that I should retain further article of value pending
settlement. Now, I ask you--"
"Where was Ranjoor Singh when he gave you that ring and message?"
demanded Warrington sternly, increasing his grip on the babu's fat arm.
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