Lalun finished her song, pointed to the Fort and said simply:—"Khem Singh".
"H'm," said Wali Dad. "If the Pearl chooses to tell you the Pearl is a fool."
I translated to Lalun who laughed. "I choose to tell what I choose to tell. They kept Khem Singh in Burma," said she. "They kept him there for many years until his mind was changed in him. So great was the kindness of the Government. Finding this, they sent him back to his own country that he might look upon it before he died. He is an old man, but when he looks upon this his country his memory will come. Moreover, there may be many who remember him."
"He is an Interesting Survival," said Wali Dad, pulling at the huqa. "He returns to a country now full of educational and political reform, but, as the Pearl says, there are many who remember him. He was once a great man. There will never be any more great men in India. They will all when they are boys go whoring after strange gods, and they will become citizens—'fellow-citizens'—'illustrious fellow-citizens'—What is it that the native papers call them?"
Wali Dad seemed to be in a very bad temper. Lalun looked out of the window and smiled into the dust-haze. I went away thinking about Kehm Singh who had once made history with a thousand followers, and would have been a princeling but for the power of the Supreme Government aforesaid.
The Senior Captain commanding Fort Amara was away on leave, but the Subaltern, his Deputy, had drifted down to the Club where I found him and enquired of him whether it was really true that a political prisoner had been added to the attractions of the Fort. The Subaltern explained at great length, for this was the first time that he had held Command of the Fort and his glory lay heavy upon him.
"Yes," said he, "a man was sent into me about a week ago from down the line—a thorough gentleman whoever he is. Of course I did all I could for him. He had his two servants and some silver cooking-pots, and he looked for all the world
