She glanced at him. ’ ‘The what, miss?’ asked Kimble, frowning. She detected that the young officer’s shoulders tensed whenever she moved in the back of his 94 car. "Yes," answered the girl. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect.
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