A kind word from anyone one fears or hates has quicker and greater impact than it has from another—and Sher Singh had worked up both fear and hatred for Taylor. The Deputy Commissioner’s friendly tone and praise won him over completely. He did not know what to say. ‘It is nothing, sir, nothing,’ he replied with gratitude. He could hardly believe his own ears when he heard himself say, ‘It is all the kindness of people like you. The students were being led astray by these Communists and other political groups. At a time like this, when the enemy is at our gates, we should be united and strong. The way the English are standing up to their adversities should be a lesson to us.’

‘Things are not going too well for us, are they?’ queried Taylor. He picked up a shiny metal tube from his table and tossed it in the air several times. Sher Singh was not sure what it was but he was fascinated by the object. Taylor went on: ‘It could put ideas in the minds of people who do not like us. Of course, we can rely on our friends. The Sikhs have a long tradition of loyalty to the British. We trust them more than any other community in India. And you know, your father is my closest colleague. He is a very good man.’

‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’

Taylor smiled looking straight at Sher Singh. He put one of the tubes to his lower lip, blew into it and made it whistle. It was an empty cartridge. Sher Singh went pale.

Taylor continued in his friendly manner: ‘Well, I mustn’t keep you from your work,’ he said. ‘It’s nice of you to have come. Drop in any time you want to see me about anything—not on a visitor’s morning like today—any other day. And if I can do anything for you, don’t hesitate to ask me.’

Sher Singh stood up and saw two other cartridges lying on the table beneath the table lamp.

‘Nice of you to have called.’

‘Goodbye, sir. Thank you very much, sir.’

‘Goodbye. Remember me to your father. What do you Sikhs say—Sat Sri Akal. That’s right, isn’t it? I am told it means ‘God is truth.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Sat Sri Akal.’