A town on the hill-tops; a town of clubs, churches, and hotels, of luxury shops, of pretty villas set in lovely gardens bright with English flowers and shaded by great orchid-clad trees; of broad, well-kept roads-such is Darjeeling, seven thousand feet above the sea.

At first sight there is nothing Oriental about it except the Gurkha policemen on point duty or the laughing groups of fair-skinned, rosy-cheeked Lepcha women that go chattering by him. But on one side the steep hills are crowded with the confused jumble of houses in the native bazaar, built higgledy-piggledy one on top of the other and lining the narrow streets and lanes that are thronged all day by a bright-garbed medley of Eastern races-Sikkimese, Bhuttias, Hindus, Tibetans, Lepchas. Set in a beautiful glen are the lovely Botanical Gardens, which look down past slopes trimly planted with rows of tea-bushes into the deep valleys far below.

As Noreen was borne along in her dandy she thought that she had never seen a more delightful spot. Everything and everyone attracted her attention-the scenery, the buildings, the varied folk that passed her on the road, from well set-up British soldiers in red coats and white helmets, smartly-dressed ladies in rickshas, Englishmen in breeches and gaiters riding sleek-coated ponies, to yellow-gowned lamas and Lepcha girls with massive silver necklaces and turquoise ornaments. She longed to turn her chair-coolies down the hill and begin at once the exploration of the attractive-looking native bazaar-until she reached the English shops with the newest fashions of female wear from London and Paris, set out behind their plate-glass windows. Here she forgot the bazaar and would willingly have lingered to look, but Ida’s dandy kept steadily alongside hers and its occupant chattered incessantly of the many forth-coming social gaieties, until they turned into the courtyard of their hotel and stepped out of their chairs.

When Ida had shown her friend into the room reserved for her she said:

“Take off your hat, dear, and let me see how you look after all these years. Why, you’ve grown into quite a pretty girl. What a nice colour your hair is! Do you use anything for it? I don’t remember its being as golden as all that at school.”

The girl laughed and shook the sunlit waves of it down, for it had got untidy under her sun-hat.

“No, Ida darling, of course I don’t use anything. The colour is quite natural, I assure you. Have you forgotten you used sometimes to call me Goldylocks at school?”

“Did I? I don’t remember. I say, Noreen, you’re a lucky girl to have made such a hit straight away with Captain Charlesworth. He’s quite the rage with the women here.”

“Is he? Why?” asked the girl carelessly, pinning up her hair.

“Why? My dear, he’s the smartest man in a very smart regiment. Very well off; has lots of money and a beautiful place at home, I believe. Comes from an excellent family. And then he’s so handsome. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes; he’s rather good-looking. But he struck me as being somewhat foppish.”

“Oh, he’s always beautifully dressed, if that’s what you mean. You saw that, even when he had just come off a train journey. He’s a beautiful dancer. I’m so glad he asked me for a couple of dances at the L.G.’s ball. I’ll see he doesn’t forget them. I’ll keep him up to his word, though Bertie won’t like it. He’s fearfully jealous of me, but I don’t care.”

“Bertie? Who is ? I thought that your husband’s name was William?” said Noreen wonderingly.

Ida burst into a peal of laughter.

“Good gracious, child! I’m not talking of my husband. Bill’s hundreds of miles away, thank goodness! I wouldn’t mind if he were thousands. No; I’m speaking of Captain Bain, a great friend of mine from the Bombay side. He’s stationed in Poona, which is quite a jolly place in the Season, though of course not a patch on this. But he got leave and came here because I did.”

“Oh, yes, I see,” replied Noreen vaguely, puzzled by Ida’s remark about her husband. She had seen the Civil Servant at the wedding and remembered him as a stolid, middle-aged, and apparently uninteresting individual. But the girl was still ignorant enough of life not to understand why a woman after two years of marriage should be thankful that her husband was far away from her and wish him farther.

“But I’m not going to let Bertie monopolise me up here,” continued Mrs. Smith, taking off her hat and pulling and patting her hair before the mirror. “I like a change. I’ve come here to have a good time. I think I’ll go in and cut you out with Captain Charlesworth. He’s awfully attractive.”

“You are quite welcome to him, dear,” said the girl.

“Oh, wait until you see the fuss the other women make of him. He’s a great catch; and all the mothers here with marriageable daughters and the spins themselves are ready to scratch each other’s eyes out over him.”

“Don’t be uncharitable, Ida dearest.”

“It’s a fact, darling. But I warn you that he’s not a marrying man. He has the reputation of being a terrible flirt. I don’t think you’ll hold him long. He’s afraid of girls-afraid they’ll try to catch him. He prefers married women. He knows we’re safe.”

Noreen said nothing, but began to open and unpack her trunks. In India, the land of servants, where a bachelor officer has seven or more, a lady has usually to do without a maid, for the ayah, or native female domestic, is generally a failure in that capacity. In the hotels Indian “boys” replace the chambermaids of Europe.

Ida rattled on.

“Of course, Bertie’s awfully useful. A tame cat-and he’s a well-trained one-is a handy thing to have about you, especially up here. You need someone to take you to races and gymkhanas and to fill up blanks on your programme at dances, as well as getting your ricksha or dandy for you when they’re over.”

Noreen laughed, amused at the frankness of the statement.

“And where is the redoubtable Captain Bain, dear?”

“You’ll see him soon. I let him off today until it’s time for him to call to take us to the Amusement Club. He was anxious to see you. He wanted to come with me to the station, but I said he’d only be in the way. I knew Miguel would be much more useful in getting your luggage. Bertie’s so slow. Still, he’s rather a dear. Remember, he’s my property. You mustn’t poach.”

Noreen laughed again and said:

“If he admires you, dear, I’m sure no one could take him from you.”

“My dear girl, you never can trust any man,” said her friend seriously. Then, glancing at herself in the mirror, she continued modestly:

“I know I’m not bad-looking, and lots of men do admire me. Bertie says I’m a ripper.”

She certainly was decidedly pretty, though of a type of beauty that would fade early. Vain and empty-headed, she was, nevertheless, popular with the class of men who are content with a shallow, silly woman with whom it is easy to flirt. They described her as “good fun and not a bit strait-laced.” Noreen knew nothing of this side of her friend, for she had not seen her since her marriage, and honestly thought her beautiful and fascinating.

Ida picked up her hat and parasol and said:

“Now I’ll leave you to get straight, darling child, and come back to you later on.”

She looked into the glass again and went on:

“It’s so nice to have you here. A woman alone is rather out of it, especially if she comes from the other side of India and doesn’t know Calcutta people. Now it’ll be all right when there are two of us. The cats can’t say horrid things about me and Bertie-though it’s only the old frumps that can’t get a man who do. I am glad you’ve come. We’ll have such fun.”

Captain Bain, a dapper little man, designed by Nature to be the “tame cat” of some married woman, was punctual when the time came to take the two ladies to the Amusement Club. Noreen had very dubiously donned her smartest frock which, having just been taken out of a trunk after a long journey, seemed very crushed, creased, and dowdy compared with the freshness and daintiness of Ida’s toilette. Men as a rule understand nothing of the agonies endured by a woman who must face the unfriendly stares of other women in a gown that she feels will invite pitiless criticism.

But for the moment the girl forgot her worries as they turned out of the hotel gate and reached the Chaurasta, the meeting of the “four-ways,” nearly as busy a cross-roads as (and infinitely more beautiful than) Carfax at Oxford or the Quattro Canti in Palermo. To the east the hill of Jalapahar towered a thousand feet above Darjeeling, crowned with bungalows and barracks. To the north the ground fell as sharply; and a thousand feet below Darjeeling lay Lebong, set out on a flattened hilltop. On three sides of this military suburb the hill sloped steeply to the valleys below. But beyond them, tumbled mass upon mass, rose the great mountains barring the way to Sikkim and Tibet, towering to the clouds that hid the white summits of the Eternal Snows.

Bain walked his pony beside Noreen’s chair and named the various points of the scenery around them. Then, when Noreen had inscribed her name in the Visitors’ Book at Government House, they entered the Amusement Club.

Noreen was overcome with shyness at finding herself, after her months of isolation, among scores of white folk, all strangers to her. Ida unconcernedly led the way into the large hall which was used as a roller-skating rink, along one side of which were set out dozens of little tables around which sat ladies in smart frocks that made the girl more painfully conscious of what she considered to be the deficiencies of her own costume. She saw one or two of the women that had travelled up in the train that day stare at her and then lean forward and make some remark about her to their companions at the table. She was profoundly thankful when the ordeal was over and, in Ida’s wake, she had got out of the rink. Conscious only of the critical glances of her own sex, she was not aware of the admiring looks cast at her by many men in the groups around the tables.

But later on in the evening she found herself seated at one of those same tables that an hour before had seemed to her a bench of stern judges. She formed one of a laughing, chattering group of Ida’s acquaintances. More at ease now, the girl watched the people around her with interest. For a year she had seen no larger gathering of her own race than the weekly meetings at the planters’ little club in the jungle, with the one exception of a durbar at Jalpaiguri.

Yet despite Ida’s company she was feeling lonely and a little depressed, a stranger in a crowd, when she saw Captain Charlesworth enter the rink, accompanied by another man. Recent as had been their meeting, he seemed quite an old friend among all these unknown people about her, and she almost hoped that he would come and speak to her. He sauntered through the hall, bowing casually to many ladies, some of whom, the girl noticed, made rather obvious efforts to detain him. But he ignored them and looked around, as if in search of some particular person. Suddenly his eyes met Noreen’s, and he promptly came straight to her table. He shook hands with Mrs. Smith and bowed to the other ladies in the group, introduced his companion, a new arrival to his battalion, and, securing a chair beside Noreen, plunged into a light and animated conversation with her. The girl could not help feeling a little pleased when she saw the looks of surprise and annoyance on the faces of some of the women at the other tables. But Charlesworth was not allowed to have it all his own way with her. Bain and an Indian Army officer named Melville also claimed her attention. The knowledge that we are appreciated tends to make most of us appear at our best, and Noreen soon forgot her shyness and loneliness and became her usual natural, bright self. Ida looked on indulgently and smiled at her patronisingly, as though Noreen’s little personal triumph were due to her.

Noreen slept soundly that night, and although she had meant to get up early and see Kinchinjunga and the snows when the sun rose, it was late when her hostess came to her room. After breakfast Ida took her out shopping. Only a woman can realise what a delight it was to the girl, after being divorced for a whole year from the sight of shops and the possibility of replenishing her wardrobe, or purchasing the thousand little necessities of the female toilet, to enter milliners’ and dressmakers’ shops where the latest, or very nearly the latest, modes of the day in hats and gowns were to be seen.

Charlesworth came to lunch in a smart riding-kit, looking particularly well-groomed and handsome. The girl was quite excited about the gymkhana, and plied him with innumerable questions as to what she would have to do. She learned that they were to enter for two affinity events. In one of these the lady was to tilt with a billiard-cue at three suspended rings, while the man, carrying a spear and a sword, took a tent-peg with the former, threw the lance away, cut off a Turk’s head in wood with the sword, and then took another peg with the same weapon. The other competition was named the Gretna Green Stakes, and in it the pair were to ride hand in hand over three hurdles, dismount and sign their names in a book, then mount again and return hand in hand over the jumps to the winning-post.

The polo-ground at Lebong that afternoon presented an animated scene, filled with colour by the bright-hued garments of the thousands of native spectators surrounding it, the uniforms of the British soldiers in the crowd, and the frocks of the English ladies in the reserved enclosure, where in large white marquees the officers of Charlesworth’s regiment acted as hosts to the European visitors. Down the precipitous road to it from Darjeeling came swarms of mixed Eastern races in picturesque garb, Gurkha soldiers in uniform, and British gunners from Jalapahar; and through the throngs Englishmen on ponies, and dandies and rickshas carrying ladies in smart summer frocks, could scarcely make their way.

When Mrs. Smith’s party reached the enclosure and shook hands with the wife of the Colonel of the Rifles, who was the senior hostess, Noreen was not troubled by the feeling of shyness that had assailed her at the Club on the previous evening. She had the comforting knowledge that her habit and boots from the best West End makers were beyond cavil. But she was too excited at the thought of the approaching contests to think much of her appearance. Charlesworth took her to see the pony that she was to ride, and, as she passed through the enclosure, she did not hear the admiring remarks of many of the men and, indeed, of some of the women. For in India even an ordinarily pretty girl will be thought beautiful, and Noreen was more than ordinarily pretty. Her mount she found to be a well-shaped, fourteen-two grey Arab, with the perfect manners of his race; and she instantly lost her heart to him as he rubbed his velvety muzzle against her cheek.

The gymkhana opened with men’s competitions, the first event in which ladies were to take part, the Tilting and Tent-pegging, not occurring until nearly half-way down the programme. Noreen was awaiting it too anxiously to enjoy, as she otherwise would, the novel scene, the gaiety, the band in the enclosure, the well-dressed throngs of English folk, the gaudy colours of the crowds squatting round the polo-ground and wondering at the strange diversions of the sahib-logue. Charlesworth did well in the men’s event, securing two first prizes and a third, and Noreen could not help admiring him in the saddle. He was a graceful as well as a good rider. Indeed, he was N in the regimental polo team, which was one of the best in India at the time.

When the moment for their competition came at last and he swung her up into her saddle, Noreen’s heart beat violently and her bridle-hand shook. But when, after other couples had ridden the course, their names were called and a billiard-cue given her, the girl’s nerves steadied at once and she was perfectly cool as she reined back her impatient pony at the starting-line. The signal was given, and she and her partner dashed down the course at a gallop. They did well, Charlesworth securing the two pegs and cutting the Turk’s head, while his affinity carried off two rings and touched the third. No others had been as fortunate, and cheers from the soldiers and plaudits from the enclosure greeted their success. Noreen was encouraged, and a becoming colour flushed her face at the applause. The last couple to ride tied with them, the lady taking all the rings, her partner getting the Turk’s head and one peg and touching the second. The tie was run off at once. Noreen, to her delight, found the three rings on her cue when she pulled up at the end of the course, although she hardly remembered taking them, while Charlesworth had made no mistake. Daunted by this result, their rivals lost their heads and missed everything in their second run.

Noreen, on her return to the enclosure, was again loudly cheered by the men, the applause of the ladies being noticeably fainter, possibly because they resented a new arrival’s success. But the girl was too pleasantly surprised at her good luck to observe this, and responded gratefully to the congratulations showered on her. She was no longer too excited to notice her surroundings, and now was able to enjoy the scenery, the music, the gay crowds, the frocks, as well as her tea when Charlesworth escorted her to the Mess Tent.

In the Gretna Green Stakes she and her partner were not so fortunate. Over the second hurdle in the run home Charlesworth’s pony blundered badly and he was forced to release his hold on the girl’s hand. When the event came for which he had originally requested her to nominate him, she suggested that he should ask Mrs. Smith to do so instead. He was skilled enough in the ways of women not to demur, and he did as he was wanted so tactfully that Ida believed it to be his own idea. So, when the gymkhana ended and Noreen and her chaperone said good-bye, he felt that he had advanced a good deal in the girl’s favour.

During the afternoon Noreen caught sight of Chunerbutty talking to a fat and sensual-looking native in white linen garments with a string of roughly-cut but very large diamonds round his neck and several obsequious satellites standing behind him. They were covertly watching her, but when, catching the engineer’s eye, she bowed to him, the fat man leant forward and stared boldly at her. She guessed him to be the Rajah of Lalpuri, who had been pointed out to her once at the Lieutenant-Governor’s durbar at Jalpaiguri.

That evening a note from Chunerbutty, telling her that his father was better though still in a precarious state, was left at her hotel. But the engineer did not call on her.

The ball on the Thursday night at Government House was all that Noreen anticipated it would be. Among the hundreds of guests there were a few Indian men of rank and a number of Parsis of both sexes-the women adding bright colours to the scene by the beautiful hues of their saris, as the silk shawls worn over their heads are called. During the evening Noreen saw Chunerbutty standing at the door of the ballroom with the fat man, who was now adorned with jewels and wearing a magnificent diamond aigrette in his puggri, and gloating with a lustful gaze over the bared necks and bosoms of the English ladies. The native of India, where the females of all races veil their faces, looks on white women, who lavishly display their charms to the eyes of all beholders, as immodest and immoral. And he judges harshly the freedom-the sometimes extreme freedom-of intercourse between English wives and men who are not their husbands.

Later in the evening, when Noreen was sitting in the central lounge with Captain Bain during an interval, Chunerbutty approached her with the fat man. Coming up to her alone the engineer said:

“Miss Daleham, may I present His Highness the Rajah of Lalpuri to you?”

Noreen felt Captain Bain stiffen, but she replied courteously:

“Certainly, Mr. Chunerbutty.”

The Rajah stepped forward, and on being introduced held out a fat and flabby hand to her, speaking in stiff and stilted English, for he did not use it with ease. He spoke only a few conventional sentences, but all the while Noreen felt an inward shiver of disgust. For his bloodshot eyes seemed to burn her bared flesh, as he devoured her naked shoulders and breast with a hot and lascivious stare. After replying politely but briefly to him she turned to the engineer and enquired after his father’s health. The music beginning in the ball-room for the next dance gave her a welcome excuse for cutting the interview short, as Bain sprang up quickly and offered her his arm. Bowing she moved away with relief.

“I suppose that fellow in evening dress was the man from your garden, Miss Daleham?” asked Bain, as they entered the ballroom.

“Yes; that was Mr. Chunerbutty, who escorted me to Darjeeling,” she answered.

“Well, if he’s a friend of your brother, he ought to know better than to introduce that fat brute of a rajah to you.”

“Oh, he is staying at the Rajah’s house here, as his father, who is ill, is in His Highness’s service.”

“I don’t care. That beast Lalpuri is a disreputable scoundrel. There are awful tales of his behaviour up here. It’s a wonder that the L.G. doesn’t order him out of the place.”

“Really?”

“Yes; he’s a disgraceful blackguard. None of the other Rajahs of the Presidency will have anything to do with him, I believe; and the two or three of them up here now who are really splendid fellows, refuse to acknowledge him. Everybody wonders why the Government of India allows him to remain on the gadi.”

The Rajah had watched Noreen with a hungry stare as she walked towards the ballroom. When she was lost to sight in the crowd of dancers he turned to Chunerbutty and seized his arm with a grip that made the engineer wince.

“She is more beautiful than I thought,” he muttered. “O you fools! You fools, who have failed me! But I shall get her yet.”

He licked his dry lips and went on:

“Let us go! Let us go from here! I am parched. I want liquor. I want women.”

And they returned to a night of revolting debauchery in the house that was honoured by being the temporary residence of His Highness the Rajah of Lalpuri, wearer of an order bestowed upon him by the Viceroy and ruler of the fate of millions of people by the grace and under the benign auspices of the Government of India.