EX-KING OF AFGHANISTAN

" Nobody," said the babu, " can pass the Frontier
after six o'clock."

I demanded the use of a telephone, to inform the
Intelligence Department at Landi Kotal. I walked
towards the entrance to the camp, where there must be
some higher official to whom to apply.

The babu, delighted now in his power, turned out the
Ghurka Guard. Nobody must go into the camp.

" Here are my rules," he said. " You may read them.
They say that none can pass the Frontier after six
o'clock. It is dangerous to be in the Khyber after dusk.
If I let you go, you will not reach Peshawar before eight
o'clock. Then the Peshawar Gate will be closed for the
night. No travellers are allowed in the Pass after dusk.
It is too dangerous."

"Is it not dangerous, then, on the border, half in
India and half in Afghanistan ? "

66 Sir, it is more dangerous. But then, you will under-
stand, we are not responsible. . . ."

A wonderful breed, the babu. He is born with the
makings of a diplomat. The letter of the law is made for
his guidance. He will stick to the letter of the law even
at the risk of his own life — and the safety of others.

The driver turned the car* The gates lifted again. We
were back in Afghanistan for the night, because it was
dangerous to be in the Khyber. Nobody, however, was
now responsible.

" Where do we sleep ? " I asked the driver.

" It is possible," he replied, " that you will prefer the
Telegraph Office to returning to Dacca." And thinking
of that odoriferous village and the entertaining madman,
I chose the Telegraph Office. It would at any rate save
us the trouble of refilling the autovac.

The little, dry, and neglected compound of the Tele-
graph Office was hot and dusty. Four Persian clerks,

N 193