“Allah forbid!  But there is something very venal in the veins of Mr. Currie Ghyrkins.  I propose to carry the outworks one by one.  He is her uncle, her guardian, her only relation, save her brother.  I do not think either of those men would be sorry to see her married to a man of stainless name and considerable fortune.”

“You forget your three incumbrances, as you called them last night.”

“No—­I do not forget them.  It is allowed me by my religion to marry a fourth, and I need not tell you that she would be thenceforth my only wife.”

“But would her guardian and brother ever think of allowing her to take such a position?”

“Why not?  You know very well that the English in general hardly consider our marriages to be marriages at all—­knowing the looseness of the bond.  That is the prevailing impression.”

“Yes, I know.  But then they would consider your marriage with Miss Westonhaugh in the same light, which would not make matters any easier, as far as I can see.”

“Pardon me.  I should marry Miss Westonhaugh by the English marriage service and under English law.  I should be as much bound to her, and to her alone, as if I were an Englishman myself.”

“Well, you have evidently thought it out and taken legal advice; and really, as far as the technical part of it goes, I suppose you have as good a chance as Lord Steepleton Kildare.”

Isaacs frowned, and his eyes flashed.  I saw at once that he considered the Irish officer a rival, and a dangerous one.  I did not think that if Isaacs had fair play and the same opportunities Kildare had much chance.  Besides there was a difficulty in the way.

“As far as religion is concerned, Lord Steepleton is not much better off than you, if he wants to marry Miss Westonhaugh.  The Kildares have been Roman Catholics since the memory of man, and they are very proud of it.  Theoretically, it is as hard for a Roman Catholic man to marry a Protestant woman, as for a Mussulman to wed a Christian of any denomination.  Harder, in fact, for your marriage depends upon the consent of the lady, and his upon the consent of the Church.  He has all sorts of difficulties to surmount, while you have only to get your personality accepted—­which, when I look at you, I think might be done,” I added, laughing.

“Jo hoga, so hoga—­what will be, will be,” he said; “but religion or no religion, I mean to do it.”  Then he lighted a cigarette and said, “Come, it is time to go and see his Saturnine majesty, the Maharajah of Baithopoor.”

I called for my hat and gloves.

“By-the-bye, Griggs, you may as well put on a black coat.  You know the old fellow is a king, after all, and you had better produce a favourable impression.”  I retired to comply with his request, and as I came back he turned quickly and came towards me, holding out both hands, with a very earnest look in his face.

“Griggs, I care for that lady more than I can tell you,” he said, taking my hands in his.