Asokore Power

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THE cruel sun of southern India I beat down. on the walks and terraces of the royal palace, but inside the car it was cool. The tiny blower hummed, and whisked away Fernando Brown's half-formed smoke-rings. The Director of the Asokore Laboratories parked in front of the main entrance (knowing perfectly well that he shouldn't) and got out. The hot air billowed into the car.

"His Highness will see you presently/' said the orderly or doorman or whatever he was. Brown couldn't keep the elaborate mechanism of a royal household straight. He settled in a chair in the vestibule. Having been kept waiting before by His Highness General Sir Keshub Hydar Ramanija Santosh Edward Mir Daula Shah, Rajah of Asokore, he had foresightedly brought along a technical magazine to read. He finished an article and a half before the functionary reappeared and said His Highness would see him forthwith.

AS HE strode into the Presence and bowed stiffly, Brown reflected that here was one on whom his detached attitude, which his friends called fair-mindedness and his enemies called coldbloodedness, didn't work. He hated the Rajah with all his heart. He loathed the smooth pudgy face (his own was freckled and angular, with a tendency toward squirrel-teeth) the suavely insolent manner, the excruciating Briticisms. He even hated the perfectly fitting linen suit.

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