I awoke with the most amazing sense of well-being. My first thought was that Admiral Duncan was safely in port, and I was sleeping on the captain’s bunk. My second was for Kenny, and my third was that the birds were singing sweetly this morning. Then I sat up and wondered where I was.
I remembered Baird kindly offering me a lift home, and I had a vague memory of getting in his coach. I had no memory of leaving, yet here I was, dressed in a very ornate nightshirt in a large soft bed that was certainly not my own.
The room was large and airy, with a late afternoon sun sending slanting rays to reflect on the brass ornaments on the wall opposite. I sat up with a jerk. I was in Mysore House, surrounded by exotic Indian furniture and ornamentation.
“Halloa!” I shouted out, rising from the bed
