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looked almost as destitute as their dwellings, that George was hard-pressed to think of a more impoverished setting - until, that was, Ilderim pointed out to him the numerous small craft loading and unloading goods in little creeks beside each village. 'Don't be fooled, huzoor . They can trade, thanks to the river, and have more than most. To see real poverty, you must visit the interior.'
    The only place of any size and interest on their journey was the sacred town of Sukkur, in upper Sind, which they reached towards the end of the second week. Its main attraction - the needle-shaped minaret of Mir Masum Shah, completed in 1614, and said to house the bones of numerous Mussulman saints - was visible for miles around. George decided to pay it a visit without Ilderim. He had just completed the last of its eighty-four winding steps, and was enjoying the spectacular view over Sukkur's colourful bazaar when footsteps heralded another sightseer. It was, to George's great surprise and not a little alarm, the suspicious stranger who, for once, had left his cabin. He was an odd-looking man, with small, light blue eyes and a slightly crooked jaw, his blond hair parted in the centre. Like George, he wore a broad-brimmed slouch hat, open-necked shirt and trousers, though he also carried a small bag, which could have housed a weapon.
    'Are you following me?' asked George.
    'Not at all,' said the stranger, with a chuckle. 'Why do you ask?'
    'Because every turn I take you're right behind me - the ship from England, the Hotel Metropole in Karachi and now the steamer to Multan. You probably caught the same train as me to Kotri.'
    'I did. I won't deny it. But it's hardly a coincidence. Anyone travelling to Peshawar from England would have gone that way. Mail packet to Karachi, a few days' stay in its best hotel while they waited for the first steamer up the Indus from Kotri. I'm not following you, just taking the same route.'
    Put like that, George had to concede that it wasn't such a coincidence - but that didn't explain the stranger's odd behaviour. 'Then why have you been acting so suspiciously? I saw you watching me in the hotel lobby, and since we boarded the steamer you've hardly left your cabin.'
    'And you've put two and two together, and concluded I'm following you.'
    'Exactly.'
    'Now, why would I do that? Have you something to hide?'
    George reddened. 'No! I just don't like being spied on.'
    'Well, you've nothing to worry about then, have you? At the hotel I looked over when I heard you asking about the train to Kotri because I was going the same way. As for my strange behaviour on the boat, there's a quite innocent explanation. I've been working on the facts and figures for a major new piece of business my company is trying to secure in Peshawar.'
    'And what business would that be?'
    'Why, carpets, of course. You must know that Peshawar is the emporium for Asian carpets - the Shatuz is particularly in demand in London at the moment, though the Persian is never out of fashion.'
    'You're a carpet dealer?'
    'I am. Thomas Overton of the Anglo-Persian Carpet Company, to be precise. And you are?'
    'James Harper of Anglo-Indian Trading.'
    'Never heard of them. What do you trade in?'
    'Dried fruit and nuts from the Punjab and Afghanistan. The well-to-do in the Home Counties can't get enough of them.'
    'Is that so? Well, well, well. It seems we're in a similar line of work.'
    'Yes, indeed.'
    'Well, I must be getting back to my books, sir. Enjoy the view but don't stay out too long. You may be waylaid by dacoits.'
    'Dacoits? I don't think I've come across that word in my language book.'
    'Which language?'
    'Pashto.'
    '"Dacoit" is an Urdu word for petty thief or robber. This part of Sind is crawling with them - another reason not to sleep on shore.'
    'I'll bear that in mind,' called George, as Overton began to descend the stone staircase.

    Later, back at the boat, George told Ilderim of his meeting with Overton, and that he hadn't believed a