well as Azimoolah Khan for the more serious work,” the General explained.
“Azimoolah!’ Forsyth exclaimed, remembering certain blood-curdling stories of his uncle’s old orderly, who had exchanged the fierce joys of Thug-hunting for the milder enjoyment of valeting his beloved Sahib in Belgravia. “Surely his methods smack too much of the jungle and the nullah for this country.”
“That’s why I want to cart the whole bag of tricks into the jungle,” said the General, grimly. “Well?” he added, as Steptoe entered and tendered the sovereign on a salver.
“The woman wouldn’t take it, sir,” was the reply. “She got up and went round the corner into Air Street, where she was met by the person who called here last night dressed as a clergyman, only he was dressed as a workingman to-day. They went away together in a four-wheeler.”
“Thank you—that simplifies things considerably,” said the General, and, announcing his intention of returning later, he bade the footman call a cab and followed him out of the room.
“I wonder what he has got up his sleeve,” Forsyth mused aloud, as he and Sibyl watched
[123]
