He told Shere Ali of the journey down the Red Sea, and the crowded deck at the last sunset before Jeddah was reached, when every one of the pilgrims robed himself in spotless white and stood facing the east and uttering his prayers in his own tongue.

He described the journey across the desert, the great shrine of the Prophet in Mecca, the great gathering for prayer upon the plain two miles away.

Something of the fervour of the pilgrims he managed to make real by his words, but Shere Ali listened with the picture of the three men in his thoughts, and with a deep envy of their contentment.
Then Hatch made his mistake.

He turned suddenly towards Ralston and said: "But something curious happened--something very strange and curious--which I think you ought to know, for the matter can hardly be left where it is." Ralston leaned forward.
"Wait a moment," he said, and he called to the waiter.

"Light a cigar before you begin, Hatch," he continued.
The cigars were brought, and Hatch lighted one.
"In what way am I concerned ?" asked Ralston.
"My story has to do with India," Hatch replied, and in his turn he looked out across the Maidan.