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 Just then Berengaria came up. Most of the people had already gone. But Sir Peter showed no signs of coming away. 'Aren't you coming?' asked Berengaria as we moved off. 'Not until the crowd has quite dispersed,' he said seriously. 'I will wait till then. The whole show is dangerous enough without unduly tempting Providence.' So we bade him good night and left him there.

'Isn't he a curiosity?' laughed Berengaria as we went away. 'He's a perfect old woman, and gives himself a dreadful time imagining horrible things. He is the very last man who ought to have come to India. This country is a place where you are quite safe really, but where there are lots of awful things you can imagine if you are built that way.' We found our carriage wonderfully easily considering the dense mass of vehicles that lined the roads, and we drove home without mishap of any kind through the good-tempered gossiping native crowd. It was not until the day we were leaving Delhi that I saw Sir Peter Tweet again. 'I began to wonder what had happened to you and if you had ever got home from the fireworks,' I said. He looked at me solemnly. 'You haven't heard?' he asked. 'You really mean to say that you haven't heard?' Sir Peter, ridiculous as he was, had a wonderful way of impressing you at the moment.