fifty times like everything else at Delhi—seemed to shoot out straight for the place where we sat.
Sir Peter leaned over towards me mysteriously.
'Have you not heard of the ham-sandwiches?' he asked in a whisper. 'Have you heard nothing of the fanaticism of the East? Do you think they are going to let a thing like that pass unavenged? Think what they could do. Practically all the Europeans are gathered here to-night. They could wipe us out with one stroke.'
I shuddered. It would be so unpleasant to be wiped out. I looked round for Berengaria and John, but they had disappeared. There was no help for it. I had to listen to Sir Peter Tweet.
'Think of all that vast crowd,' he went on. 'Think of what it contains. All the worst scoundrels in India are probably collected there. They would have to sacrifice their Jumma Musjid, but what would they care for that compared with the havoc they could work among the infidels? And think of the loot they would find in our tents after they had blown us up? Isn't that temptation enough alone, even leaving aside the ham sandwiches?' He leaned closer to me and spoke slowly and impressively. 'It wants only one fanatic or one scoundrel among all that vast crowd to do it. One man unaided could wipe us all clean out.'
I shuddered again. I felt like a figure on a slate with a nasty damp sponge hanging over me.
Again a mass of changing light shot up into the air, making everything clear as day in wonderful tints of red and blue and gold. It seemed in some
