They surrounded the car. Sahgal spotted a cement merchant with whom he had done business."What's going on?" Sahgal asked."The English wife of Feroz Khan Noon escaped the Raja of Mandi," the man explained. Every Sikh in the countryside was looking for her.Ah, said Sahgal, he had passed the Raja's Rolls twenty miles up the road. He was going to Amritsar with his pregnant wife. The man peered into the car. As he did, Vickie prayed for the efficacy of her shoe polish, and that the Sikh wouldn't address her in Hindi. He stared at her with curious eyes. Then he pulled back and waved them through the roadblock. As their car rolled off toward Indian Headquarters and safety, Vickie sank back onto her seat. Absentmindedly she began to tap the lid of her shoe-polish can with her fingernail. She turned to her companion."You know, Gautam," she said, with a smile, "my husband will never buy me a jewel I'll treasure as much as this tin can."Vickie Noon's experience was unusual. The English were rarely molested in that tempestuous autumn.
