IN QUEST OF A SOLUTION.
45
a new terrace. None of the other houses were inhabited, and that at which we stopped was as dark as its neighbours, save for a single glimmer in the kitchen-window. On our knocking, however, the door was instantly thrown open by a Hindoo servant, clad in a yellow turban, white loose-fitting clothes, and a yellow sash. There was something strangely incongruous in this Oriental figure framed in the commonplace doorway of a third-rate suburban dwelling-house.
'The Sahib awaits you,' said he, and even as he spoke there came a high, piping voice from some inner room.
'Show them in to me, khitmutgar,' it cried. 'Show them straight in to me.'
