He, however, gazed impatiently at the club-house
door, where a neat pair of ponies awaited him, with servants deftly
purveyed by the subtle Ram Lal. His two body servants were also
afrites of the same sly Aladdin. His swelling port duly impressed
his old friends.
The man "who had dropped into a good thing" gently put aside sundry
hospitable proffers, politely laughed away several tempting bargains
as to horses, carriages, furnished bungalows, and offers of racing
engagements, hunting bouts, and "private" dinners. "Waiting orders,
d'ye see!" he gently murmured. "Not worth while to set up anything!"
And then, with the air of a martyr, he disappeared, the ponies
springing briskly away, leaving all baffled conjecture behind.
The curious men who were left discussing a flying rumor that Major
Hawke was authorized to raise a Regiment of Irregular Horse for
a special expeditionary secret purpose, wrangled with those who
maintained that a brilliant local civil-service vacancy would be
theatrically filled by the man who now bore a brow of mystery. The
advent of this prosperous Hawke had made the great social deeps of
Delhi to boil like a pot. His mission was one of those things no
fellow could find out.
Laughing in his sleeve, the object of all this sudden curiosity
made a number of detours, and adroitly followed a native servant
down an obscure rear street, after dismissing his pony carriage.
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