Really not knowing whither I had best go, I took a through ticket to Calcutta; but, on reaching Allahabad, I heard the same well-known voice directing me to go to Berhampore.  At Azimgunge, in the train, I met, most providentially I may say, with some Bengali gentlemen (I did not then know they were also Theosophists, since I had never seen any of them), who were also in search of Madame Blavatsky.  Some had traced her to Dinapore, but lost her track and went back to Berhampore.  They knew, they said, she was going to Tibet and wanted to throw themselves at the feet of the Mahatmas to permit them to accompany her.  At last, as I was told, they received from her a note, permitting them to come if they so desired it, but saying that she herself was prohibited from going to Tibet just now.  She was to remain, she said, in the vicinity of Darjiling and would see the Mahatma on the Sikkhim Territory, where they would not be allowed to follow her ....  Brother Nobin K. Bannerji, the President of the Adhi Bhoutic Bhratru Theosophical Society, would not tell me where Madame Blavatsky was, or perhaps did not then know himself.  Yet he and others had risked all in the hope of seeing the Mahatmas.  On the 23rd, at last he brought me from Calcutta to Chandernagore, where I found Madame Blavatsky, ready to start by train in five minutes.  A tall, dark-looking hairy Chela (not Chunder Cusho), but a Tibetan I suppose by his dress, whom I met after I had crossed the river Hugli with her in a boat, told me that I had come too late, that Madame Blavatsky had already seen the Mahatmas and that he had brought her back.  He would not listen to my supplications to take me with him, saying he had no other orders than what he had already executed—­namely, to take her about twenty-five miles beyond a certain place he named to me, and that he was now going to see her safe to the station and return.  The Bengali brother Theosophists had also traced and followed her, arriving at the station half an hour later.  They crossed the river from Chandernagore to a small railway station on the opposite side.  When the train arrived, she got into the carriage, upon entering which I found the Chela!  And, before even her own things could be placed in the van, the train, against all regulations and before the bell was rung, started off, leaving the Bengali gentlemen and her servant behind, only one of them and the wife and daughter of another—­all Theosophists and candidates for Chelaship—­having had time to get in.  I myself had barely the time to jump into the last carriage.  All her things, with the exception of her box containing Theosophical correspondence, were left behind with her servant.  Yet, even the persons that went by the same train with her did not reach Darjiling.  Babu Nobin Banerjee, with the servant, arrived five days later; and those who had time to take their seats, were left five or six stations behind, owing to another unforeseen accident (?), reaching Darjiling also a few days later.  It required no great stretch of imagination to conclude that Madame Blavatsky was, perhaps, being again taken to the Mahatmas, who, for some good reasons best known to them, did not want us to be following and watching her.  Two of the Mahatmas, I had learned for a certainty, were in the neighbourhood of British territory; and one of them was seen and recognized, by a person I need not name here, as a high Chutukla of Tibet.