Nine men out of ten would flee from a Royal Society soiree in extremity of boredom; but Creighton was the tenth, and at times his soul yearned for the crowded rooms in easy London where silver-haired, bald-headed gentlemen who know nothing of the Army move among spectroscopic experiments, the lesser plants of the frozen tundras, electric flight-measuring machines, and apparatus for slicing into fractional millimetres the left eye of the female mosquito.

By all right and reason, it was the Royal Geographical that should have appealed to him, but men are as chancy as children in their choice of playthings.

So Creighton smiled, and thought the better of Hurree Babu, moved by like desire.
He dropped the ghost-dagger and looked up at Mahbub.
'How soon can we get the colt from the stable ?' said the horse-dealer, reading his eyes.
'Hmm! If I withdraw him by order now--what will he do, think you?
I have never before assisted at the teaching of such an one.' 'He will come to me,' said Mahbub promptly.

'Lurgan Sahib and I will prepare him for the Road.' 'So be it, then.

For six months he shall run at his choice.