But alas!"--he shrugged his shoulders--"it is the fate of the
Anglo-Indian to work for the richness and greatness of his country and
himself remain miserably poor."
"How much money would be required?" Nehal Singh asked.
"You will no doubt be amused at the smallness of the sum--a mere four
thousand rupees--but it is just so much we have not got."
Nehal Singh smiled.
"Let me at once begin to make use of my power," he said graciously. "It
would be a pleasure to me to mark my first meeting with you by the gift of
the building you require. I place the matter in your hands, Sahib Travers.
For the time being, until I have gained my own experience, yours must be
the guiding brain."
The good-looking Englishman appeared to be considerably taken aback
--almost distressed.
"You are too generous, Rajah Sahib!" he protested. To himself he commented
on the rapidity with which this fellow had picked up the lingo of polite
society.
All further conversation was cut short by a cry of admiration from the
crowd behind them. They had reached the chief entrance to the palace, and
suddenly, as though at a given signal, every outline of the building
became marked out by countless points of light which sparkled starlike
against the darkening sky. At the same instant, the temple to their left
took form in a hundred colors, and a burst of weird music broke on the
ears of the wondering spectators. It was a strange and beautiful scene,
such as few of them had ever seen.
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