For the first time since he had landed in India a day had passed without some resident leaving on him a card or a note of invitation.

The newspapers gave him the reason.

He was supposed to have left on the _Madras_ for England.

To make sure he rang for his waiter; no message of any kind had come.
"Shall I ask at the office ?" the waiter asked.
"By no means," answered Thresk, and he added: "I will have dinner served up here to-night." There was just a possibility, he thought, that he might after all escape this particular payment.

He took from his pocket his unposted letter to Stella Ballantyne.