"Allen, Grant - Miss Cayley's Adventures 09 - The Adenture of the Magnificent Maharajah" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allen Grant)

to in Bombay Harbour when we noticed on the quay a
very distinguished-looking Oriental potentate, in a
large, white turban with a particularly big diamond
stuck ostentatiously in its front. He stalked on
board with a martial air, as soon as we stopped,
and made inquiries from our captain after someone
he expected. The captain received him with that
odd mixture of respect for rank and wealth,
combined with true British contempt for the
inferior black-man, which is universal among his
class in their dealings with native Indian
nobility. The Oriental potentate, however, who was
accompanied by a gorgeous suite like that of the
Wise Men in Italian pictures, seemed satisfied with
his information, and moved over with his stately
glide in our direction. Elsie and I were standing
near the gangway among our rugs and bundles, in the
hopeless helplessness of disembarkation. He
approached us respectfully, and, bowing with
extended hands and a deferential air, asked, in
excellent English, 'May I venture to inquire which
of you two ladies is Miss Lois Cayley?'

'I am,' I replied, my breath taken away
by this unexpected greeting. 'May I venture to
inquire in return how you came to know I was
arriving by this steamer?'

He held out his hand, with a courteous
inclination. 'I am the Maharajah of
Moozuffernuggar,' he answered in an impressive
tone, as if everybody knew of the Maharajah of
Moozuffernuggar as familiarly as they knew of the
Duke of Cambridge. 'Moozuffernuggar in Rajputana--
not the one in the Doab. You must have
heard my name from Mr. Harold Tillington.'

I had not; but I dissembled, so as to salve his
pride. 'Mr. Tillington's friends are our
friends,' I answered, sententiously.

'And Mr. Tillington's friends are my
friends,' the Maharajah retorted, with a low bow to
Elsie. 'This is no doubt, Miss Petheridge. I have
heard of your expected arrival, as you will guess,
from Tillington. He and I were at Oxford together;
I am a Merton man. It was Tillington who first
taught me all I know of cricket. He took me to
stop at his father's place in Dumfriesshire. I owe
much to his friendship; and when he wrote me that