He dropped into my office to say goodbye, but I was busy with the Member and could see nobody, so he left a card with 'P.P.C.' on it.

I kept the card by accident, and I keep it still by design, for the sake of that inscription.
Strobo had given up his hotel in Simla to start one in Calcutta.

It never occurred to me that Armour might go to Strobo's; but it was, of course, the natural thing for him to do, especially as Strobo happened to be in Calcutta himself at the time.

He went and stayed with Strobo, and every day he and the Signor, clad in bath-towels, lay in closed rooms under punkahs and had iced drinks in the long tumblers of the East, and smoked and talked away the burden of the hours.
Strobo was in Calcutta to meet a friend, an Austrian, who was shortly leaving India in the Messagerie Maritimes steamer Dupleix after agreeable wanderings disguised as a fakir in Tibet; and to this friend was attached, in what capacity I never thought well to inquire, a lady who was a Pole, and played and sang as well as Strobo fiddled.

I believe they dined together every night, this precious quartet, and exchanged in various tongues their impressions of India under British control.
'A houri in stays,' the lady who was a Pole described it.