He had not been troubled in this way since he sent Kim to Umballa with the message, and hoped that suspicion had been finally diverted.
Then a most brilliant notion struck him.
'The English do eternally tell the truth,' he said, 'therefore we of this country are eternally made foolish.

By Allah, I will tell the truth to an Englishman! Of what use is the Government police if a poor Kabuli be robbed of his horses in their very trucks.

This is as bad as Peshawur! I should lay a complaint at the station.

Better still, some young Sahib on the Railway! They are zealous, and if they catch thieves it is remembered to their honour.' He tied up his horse outside the station, and strode on to the platform.
'Hullo, Mahbub Ali' said a young Assistant District Traffic Superintendent who was waiting to go down the line--a tall, tow-haired, horsey youth in dingy white linen.

'What are you doing here?
Selling weeds--eh ?' 'No; I am not troubled for my horses.