“And you will never return to Burma?”

“Never, no.  I have laid out to go to Ireland and spend the rest of my time there when the war is over.”

“Ah—­I wonder when the war will be over?” said Shafto.

“God alone knows!” exclaimed the pongye.  “They were talking in the bazaar of the end coming about Christmas.  I think meself it will be a long business and an awkward business, too.”

“So do I,” agreed Shafto, recalling the sage remarks of George Gregory.

“Yes, it’s like a light stuck in an old thatch!  We’ll have half the world in it before long, an’ the greatest blaze as ever was known.”

“I see that Australia and Canada and South Africa are all coming to lend a hand.”

“Well, we want every hand we can get—­and every foot, too!  I’ve heard plenty of big talk in the bazaar, where the Germans have laid out a mint of money.  By all accounts they are going to take Persia, India, Burma, the whole of our trade, money and fleet.  Well, if that comes off, it’ll be a cold world!  By the way, sir,” he continued in another tone, “did ye see Ma Chit the day we were leavin’ Rangoon, signin’ and wavin’ to ye as we cast off?”

Shafto nodded curtly.

“An’ ye never tuk no notice!  Ye might have given her just a small sign to ease her heart—­but I’m thinkin’ ye have a hard drop in ye.”

“I dare say I have,” assented Shafto, “and I’m glad of it, for now and then it has prevented me from making an awful fool of myself.”

“Ah, well, sometimes the fools have the best of it; not that I’m sayin’ a word in favour of Ma Chit—­only that if ye’d waved yer hand she’d a gone away with a small bit of consolation and comfort.”

“By the way, Ryan, what did you mean by saying you were a magician?”

“Oh, that was only a bit of a boast, sir.  I know a few tricks I learnt in the regiment; one of the privates was a professional conjurer and mighty clever when sober.  When I showed off one or two little tricks with stones, or buttons, or bits of string, the Burmans were sure I was a real wizard, and looked up to me, so they did, and then the birds and animals being so friendly—­I was always so much at my ease with them, and the childher—­they said I cast spells!”

The steerage passengers were not a little surprised to note the forgathering of a first-class passenger with this odd reserved person (whose shaven head was associated in their opinion with the interior of Rangoon jail).  Nor was this all; now and then a remarkably pretty young lady accompanied the said first-class passenger and brought fruit, and books, and cakes, and the three appeared to be on the best of terms.  The pongye and Shafto had many long talks together; they discussed life among the Burmese, the prospects of war, the changes that might awake and shake the world, and, appropriate supplement to the topic of war, more than once they spoke of death.