I helped to
carry him out. Aha, he was a strong Sahib! But he is dead and I, old Mangal
Khan, am still living, by your favor."
That was more than enough! I had my ghost--a firsthand, authenticated article.
I would write to the Society for Psychical Research--I would paralyze the
Empire with the news! But I would, first of all, put eighty miles of assessed
crop land between myself and that dak-bungalow before nightfall. The Society
might send their regular agent to investigate later on.
I went into my own room and prepared to pack after noting down the facts of
the case. As I smoked I heard the game begin again,--with a miss in balk this
time, for the whir was a short one.
The door was open and I could see into the room. Click--c1ick! That was a
cannon. I entered the room without fear, for there was sunlight within and a
fresh breeze without. The unseen game was going on at a tremendous rate. And
well it might, when a restless little rat was running to and fro inside the
dingy ceiling-cloth, and a piece of loose window-sash was making fifty breaks
off the window-bolt as it shook in the breeze!
Impossible to mistake the sound of billiard balls! Impossible to mistake the
whir of a ball over the slate! But I was to be excused.
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