"The trouble is," replied Fabian, "so has the rest of the household."

"Why is he so important?" I asked.

"He is employed by the Company. This is for him a permanent post. He regards the house as his and those of us who use it are merely his passing guests. That is how he sees it. Of course, he is very efficient. I suppose that is why he is tolerated."

"I think he will be easy to get along with," said Lavinia.

"He will if he gets complete subservience," Fabian told her.

"Which you resent," I said.

"I won't have my life ruled by servants."

"I don't think he sees himself as that," said Dougal. "To himself he is the great Nabob, the ruler of us all."

"There is something about him that makes me wary," said Fabian. "If he becomes too arrogant I shall do my best to get him replaced. Now what news from home?"

"You know the war is over," I asked.

"It is about time, too."

"They have brought the men home from the Crimea and the nurses are looking after them. They did a wonderful job."

"Thanks to the redoubtable Miss Nightingale."

"Yes," I said. "It took a great deal of hard work to make people listen to her."

"Well, the war is over," said Fabian. "And it ended in victory for us—a Pyrrhic victory, I fear. The losses were tremendous and the French and Russians suffered more than we did, I believe. But our losses were great."

"Thank Heaven it is all over," said Dougal.

"It took us a long time," commented Fabian. "And ... I don't think it has done us much good here."

"You mean in India?" I asked.

"They watch closely what the British are doing and I have come to the conclusion that attitudes have changed a little since it started."

He was frowning as he looked into his glass.

Lavinia yawned. She said, "I believe the shops here are very much like those in Bombay."

Fabian laughed. "And that is a matter of the utmost importance, which you will no doubt quickly investigate."

"Why should the attitude change because of a war far away?" I asked.

Fabian leaned his arms on the table and looked intently at me. "The Company has brought great good to India ... so we think. But it is never easy for one country to impose its customs on another. Even though the changes in some cases may be for the better, there is necessarily a certain resentment."

"There is undoubtedly resentment here," agreed Dougal.

"And it alarms you?" I asked.

"Not exactly," replied Fabian. "But I think we have to be watchful."

"Is that one of the reasons why the despotic rule of the Great Khansamah is tolerated?"

"I see you have grasped the situation very quickly."

"Oh, Drusilla is so clever," said Lavinia. "Far cleverer than I could ever be."

"You do show a certain perception, since you are able to see it," said her brother. "Although I must say it is rather obvious."

"Fabian is always beastly to me," said Lavinia, pouting.

"I am truthful, dear sister." He turned to me. "Things have changed a little in the last year or so. And I think it may have something to do with the war. There were accounts in the papers of the suffering endured by our men and of the long siege of Sebastopol. I sensed that some were regarding that with a certain satisfaction."

"But surely our prosperity helps them."

"It does, but all people are not so logical as you and I. There is something such as cutting off one's nose to spite one's face. I fancy there are many here who would be ready to do just that ... to let their own prosperity suffer for the sake of seeing us humiliated."

"It sounds rather a senseless attitude to take up."

"There is a strong sense of national pride in us all," put in Dougal. "Independence is dear to most of us, and some fear to lose it, even if retaining it means dispensing with certain comforts."

"What would be the result of this feeling?" I asked.

"Nothing we shouldn't be able to handle," said Fabian. "But it shows itself now and then. The Khansamah of this house is a man of overweening pride, as you have seen."

"I think he is rather fun," said Lavinia.

"If you recognize that he is the head of the household, all will be well," said Fabian. "I believe he is not a man whom it would be wise to cross."

"What could he do?"

"Make things uncomfortable in a hundred ways. The servants would obey him. They daren't do anything else. If there is a growing restlessness in the country, it is probably due to the way we have brought in new laws. They are afraid we are going to impose our ways on them to such an extent that their native institutions will be stifled out of existence."

"Is it right to do that?" I asked.

Fabian looked at me and nodded. "Thuggery. Suttee ...they are evils which have been suppressed by the British. You looked surprised. I see you are unaware of these matters. Both are pernicious, wicked, cruel customs long overdue for suppression. We have made the performance of them against the law. There were many Indians who lived in fear of these practices, but at the same time they resent our coming here and making them criminal acts. Dougal, of course, has made a study of all this."

"He would," said Lavinia.

Dougal did not glance at her. He turned to me. "It is the Hindustani Thaga. We have called it thuggery. It is a worship of the goddess Kali, who must be the most bloodthirsty of all gods and goddesses ever thought of. She demands perpetual blood. Those who take the oath to her are by profession murderers. It is considered an honourable profession ... to murder."

"Surely everyone agrees that it is good to stop that," I said.

"Everyone ... except the Thugs themselves. But it is interference by foreigners with the customs of the country."

"People must have been terrified."

"It was a religious community. Those people who took the oath lived by murder. It was not important whom they murdered, as long as they killed. They lived on the plunder they took from their victims, but the motive was not robbery, but to placate their goddess. They banded together in groups, falling in with travellers, seeking their confidences and choosing the appropriate moment to murder them."

"How ... diabolical!"

"They usually killed by strangulation."

"Quite a number of them made use of the thorn apple," said Fabian.

"Oh, that's a special sort of drug," said Dougal. "It grows profusely here. The leaves and seeds are used in medicine. When the leaves are dry they have a narcotic smell. You'd recognize this plant when you see it. The name is actually datura, but they call it thorn apple. You can see the tubular five-cleft calyx with a large carolla, shaped rather like a funnel. It has a prickly sort of capsule."

"Trust Dougal to get the scientific description," said Lavinia mockingly.

"There's nothing scientific about that," said Dougal. "It is just easy for anyone to see."

"I fancy I wouldn't recognize it if I saw it," said Lavinia. "Would you, Drusilla?"

"I don't think so for a moment."

"There you are, Dougal. You're boring us with your description. I want to hear more about the poison."

"It's deadly," said Dougal. "A peculiar alkaloid called daturina can be distilled from it. Some of the natives use it as a drug. When they do, they become wildly excited. The world seems a beautiful place and they are almost delirious."

"And they like that?" I asked.

"Oh yes, indeed," said Dougal. "It makes them feel wonderful ... while it lasts. But I believe it is followed by acute depression, which is usual in the case of these substances. Moreover, it can be very dangerous and in the end fatal."

"You were saying that these thugs used it to kill their victims."

"It was one of their methods," replied Fabian, "but I believe the more usual was strangulation."

"I should have thought most people would have been greatly relieved that these thugs had been put out of action by the law."

Fabian lifted his shoulders and looked at the ceiling.

"It is a matter of what we were saying ... independence or better rule. There are those who will always want the former. It is the same with suttee."

"That was abolished about the same time as thuggery," Dougal told me. "They really have a great deal to be thankful for to Lord William Bentinck. He was the governor of Madras for twenty years and then he became Governor General from 1828 to '35. You know what happens in suttee. A husband dies and his wife leaps into his funeral pyre and is burned to death with his body."

"How terrible!"

"So thought we all, and Lord William brought in the laws condemning suttee and thuggery," added Fabian.

"It was a great step forward," commented Dougal.

"Do you know?" put in Fabian. "I believe both are still practised in some remote places. It is a defiance of British rule."

Lavinia yawned again and said, "Really, this is getting like a history lesson!"

"A fascinating one," I said.

"Drusilla, don't be such a. prig! You infuriate me. You just encourage them. I know what she's going to say. 'If you don't like it, I'll go back home.' She's always threatening me with going back home."

"That," said Fabian gravely, "is something we must persuade her not to do."

I was happy suddenly. It was the experience I had known before. It was like coming alive.

For the rest of the evening we talked of India, of the various castes and religions. Looking out on the lawn, I thought it was one of the most peaceful scenes I had ever encountered.