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Singh tells me nothing and does not even post myletters. No letters have been given to me either. By now I should think there would be several.’
    ‘Such senseless violence. It is difficult to know where to apportion blame. And that poor girl, that unfortunate woman. It has incensed people. Looting, rioting, burning. Yes, yes. One expects. Deplores but expects. But these other things . . . I was delayed because the railways have been so uncertain. In Ranpur feeling is running high. In Mayapore the civil have handed over to the military. The whole country is seething. Will you have some tea?’
    ‘No thank you.’
    ‘It is ten o’clock. I always have tea at ten o’clock. A regular régime. While I’m away things get out of hand. It is five past ten.’ He said this without looking at his watch. He made no effort to have tea brought in. Chapprassis were waiting on the bench outside, but he did not call one of them. He said, ‘But they will be better now that I am back. Lieutenant Moran Singh has conducted everything with precision and now that I am back to say the word everything will fall into place. I’m afraid I cannot change the arrangements for your accommodation. Have you any other requests?’
    ‘I should like further supplies of pen, paper and ink.’
    ‘I will tell Lieutenant Moran Singh. He will arrange it with one of the clerks.’
    ‘There are two habitable rooms in the zenana house, the one I have as a bedroom and the one I use as a study. I should like to share these rooms with one of your other prisoners.’
    ‘Which one?’
    ‘Any one. I don’t know who you have got here.’
    ‘As I said, rank and file. I cannot allow it. It is against my principles. I am surprised that you wish it. You are a man who has been in a position of authority. Well, well, that is a lonely business. I too am living alone in this fortress, Mr Kasim. I am glad you are here. We can talk together sometimes. I am interested in Islamic art and literature as well as in history. The early eighteenth-century Urdu poet, Gaffur, was also of your ancient family, so I understand. I have translated some of his verses into English. You might like to have a look at them.’
    Kasim bowed his head.
    ‘In one or two cases I believe I have managed to convey something of the splendour and simplicity of the original. You are well acquainted with the poems of Gaffur, Mr Kasim?’
    ‘At one time, yes. As a boy. Since then other things have tended to occupy my mind. You said that the country is seething.’
    ‘Looting. Arson. Sabotage. Policemen have been murdered. Track has been torn up. Magistrates imprisoned in their own jails, Congress flags run up. Troops called out. Inevitable loss of life. Waste. Violence. Terrible violence. To no purpose. It’s being stamped out. It’s best forgotten. I should not talk about it.’
    ‘You said something about a girl.’
    ‘She was raped. Another woman was attacked. An elderly woman. The Indian who was driving her to safety was murdered.’
    ‘Were they Europeans?’
    ‘English. The woman was a mission school teacher. The girl who was raped was of good family. They have arrested the men.’
    ‘Was this in Ranpur?’
    ‘No. In Mayapore. The military have taken over. Your people have done terrible things. I do not understand you, Mr Kasim. Over this we are in opposite camps. We are enemies. But I am a humane man.’ Major Tippit paused. ‘I’m a historian, really. The present does not interest me. The future even less. Only through art and contemplation of the past can man live with man. I hope you will be content. Think upon the Fort as a refuge from life’s turmoils and disappointments.’
    Kasim waited, then when he saw that for the moment Tippit had no more to say, he rose, thanked his jailer for the interview and said, ‘I have your permission to return to my quarters?’
*
    He walked alone across the space that separated the Fort commander’s office and the zenana house, under the eyes