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features.’
    ‘Some of my fellow-prisoners would be interested in it too.’
    ‘Oh, I don’t think so. If I may make bold, they are not of similar intellectual calibre. The other prisoners here are very much from the rank and file of your movement.’ A look of almost intense disappointment came on to Major Tippit’s face, as if he had only just realized what they were talking about. ‘We were told several weeks ago that we might have to provide accommodation for a VIP detenu. Of course we immediately thought of Mr Gandhi or Mr Nehru. At first I believed we had nothing suitable. Amazing how you can overlook something that’s right under your nose. I had become so used to sitting here and looking through the window and seeing the zenana house, so used to going over there and using it for my own private purposes – I did a great deal of reading and writing and studying there – that I came to think of it really as an extension of my office. Then of course it struck me how eminently suitable it was. In the heart of the citadel, and if I may say so, constantly under my eye. One has that kind of obligation if one takes one’s duties seriously. I made the necessary arrangements at once. It was the last thing I did before going on leave. One has to be prepared. I knew I would miss using the little house. I always found it so conducive to meditation. I confess I was a little sad when I returned last night and Lieutenant Moran Singh said that the zenana house was now occupied. However, I was most interested when he told me who you were. A member of the ancient house of Kasim. The Fort was once within the territory administered by the Kasim who was a viceroy of the great Moghul. But you know that? Your kinsman, the present Nawab of Mirat, is directly descended from him. I thought last night how interesting it was that a Kasim should have come back to stay in Premanagar. And frankly I was rather relieved that the occupant of the zenana house was of the Faith. Tell me, are you a Sunni or a Shiah Muslim?’
    ‘Major Tippit, you have not answered my complaint. My impression is that the officers who conducted me from Ranpur brought a letter to you from Sir George Malcolm. Isthere anything in that letter that suggested I should be kept isolated?’
    ‘A letter?’
    ‘I think the one near your left elbow. I recognize the heading.’
    Tippit looked down, picked the letter up, glanced at it.
    ‘Oh yes. Lieutenant Moran Singh mentioned a letter. I have not read it yet.’
    ‘Would you do so now?’
    Tippit looked down again, stared at the letter. His eyes showed no movement of reading. After a while he replaced the letter near his left elbow.
    ‘Well?’ Kasim asked. ‘Is there anything that suggests or orders solitary confinement?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Is there anything about newspapers?’
    ‘You have permission to read newspapers.’
    ‘Good. But I have not been given any. That is my other complaint.’
    ‘I will speak to Lieutenant Moran Singh about it.’
    ‘I’ve spoken to Lieutenant Moran Singh about it several times. I’ve given him a list of the newspapers I want. I’ve also written to my wife asking her to send newspapers. That letter and several other letters are still here. They are on your desk.’
    ‘I’ll read them as soon as possible. You understand that they must be read?’
    ‘I understand nothing of the sort. They will be read in Ranpur, either in the censorship office at the Secretariat or by a member of the Governor’s staff. Sometimes by both. I have not so far written personally to the Governor as he requested me, but I shall be doing so presently. I should like to be able to make some comments to him on whatever the current situation is.’
    Major Tippit glanced up – not, it seemed, recognizing a threat. He said, ‘Things have been very distressing, haven’t they?’
    ‘Major Tippit, how can I tell how things have been? I have no radio, no newspapers, my guards tell me nothing, Lieutenant Moran