What was she to know of the working of an eastern mind in the secret places of a Hindu temple?

Neither did it strike her as strange that a taxi, with its flag up for hire, should be standing opposite the bank door, blocking the way for arriving vehicles; or that, having persistently refused many irate would-be hirers, and patiently listened to the asperity of their remarks, the driver should have opened the door and held it back as she walked straight across the pavement, got in, and, without hesitating gave the address of the Whiteway Laidlaw Company.

It might have seemed odd to a stranger; still more odd would it have appeared to any chance passer-by if they had overheard the following short conversation as Leonie got out at the shop.

“Can you drive me afterwards to Kulna?” she asked in her best but inefficient Hindustani.

“Even so, mem-sahib,” promptly replied the lithe, good-looking son of the East as he salaamed.  “If the mem-sahib will pardon her servant he would advise driving to Jessore and resting the night there at the dak bungalow, that is if the mem-sahib is not in too great haste!”

Leonie frowned, only understanding half of what was said.

“Don’t you speak English?”

“No, mem-sahib; but my brother, who lives near the New Market but a minute’s drive from here, speaks the mem-sahib’s language.  Also, he is a good bearer, having travelled widely.  If the mem-sahib permits, I will call him to accompany her on her journey to Jessore.”

“Very well!” said Leonie, beckoning to a boy, who sprang towards her with a huge basket which, for a few annas, he would carry round the entire building after her, and into which she would throw her purchases of all sizes and shapes.

He emerged some time later jubilantly staggering with basket and hands full.

What a priceless mem-sahib who had not once complained about the price!

The brother had materialised!  Oh, those brothers and fathers, and mothers and sisters, and all those relations who are always so strangely near at hand in India!

“If I may offer a suggestion,” said the soft voice in the delightfully choice English of the educated native of India who has sojourned in England, “it would be that we drive only to Jessore, stopping at Bongong dak bungalow for tiffin.  If the mem-sahib is sight-seeing, I will arrange everything in the most convenient and pleasant manner for her.  From here to Kulna in one day would be a long and wearisome journey in this great heat.”

Leonie half turned with the slightest frown as she passed her hand over her eyes.

Once again had come that suggestion of something familiar—­a suggestion too fleeting to be caught.

“You can do exactly as you think best as long as I start for the Sunderbunds to-morrow morning.”

“The public boat does not start for three days, mem-sahib.”

“I can hire a private launch, can I not?  Money is no object, only speed.”