The first time I heard Jim Maitland’s name mentioned was in the bar of a P. and O. We were two days out of Colombo, going East, and when I confessed my complete ignorance of the man a sort of stupefied silence settled on the company.
‚You don’t know Jim?‘ murmured an Assam tea-planter. ‚I thought everyone knew Jim.‘
‚Anyway, if you stay in these parts long you soon will, ‚ put in someone else. ‚And once known–never forgotten.‘
They fell into reminiscences of old times, and I was well content to listen. Ever and anon Maitland’s name was mentioned, and gradually my curiosity was aroused. And when one by one they went off to turn in, leaving me alone with the tea-planter, I asked him point-blank for further details.
He smiled thoughtfully, and took a sip of his whisky and soda.
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