There was no help for him in Colonel Dewes.

He said good-bye with a smile, and walked out past the stand.

His syce was waiting for him outside the railings.
Shere Ali had come to the races wearing a sun-helmet, and, as the fashion is amongst the Europeans in Calcutta, his syce carried a silk hat for Shere Ali to take in exchange for his helmet when the sun went down.
Shere Ali, like most of the Europeanised Indians, was more scrupulous than any Englishman in adhering to the European custom.

But to-day, with an angry gesture, he repelled his syce.
"I am going," he said.

"You can take that thing away." His sense of humour failed him altogether.