I read Bhowani Junction in the early 1960s, my first introduction to the thronging Indian subcontinent. Later I was to read Forster’s Passage to India, the Raj trilogy of Paul Scott, Heat and Dust by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala,The Far Pavilions by MM Kaye, Jim Corbett’s tiger-hunting exploits, and his thoughtful, affectionate memoir My India, and, over the years, just about everything by Kipling. In the ‘90s I worked in India a few times and thought I would have the chance to find out what British writers had caught and what they had missed, but the Raj had been dead for fifty years – although Indian bookshops are still well-stocked with all the above writers. I lost all contact with John Masters until a recent encounter with a secondhand copy of The Deceivers (Penguin 1955) which has a b&w photo of the author on the back looking something like Trevor Howard. It’s a very ambitious story, depicting the Thuggee movement in the early nineteenth century, by means of a derring-do account of the experiences of a British District Commissioner and his wife. Thuggee was properly pronounced ‘tooggee’, Masters tell us, and thug was originally ‘toog’. History books usually find space for a brief description – ‘quasi-religious movement featuring ritual violence and mass murder’ (or words to that effect) – without giving any idea of its extent and formidable impact. According to Masters, in a historical note: ‘It is thought that Thuggee must have murdered well over a million people… constituting the greatest criminal conspiracy of history (up to that time)’. Wikipedia gives alternative estimates of the Thuggee deathcount, ranging from 500,000 to two million. The narrative of The Deceivers is of its time, somewhat overblown and melodramatic, dependent on unlikely coincidence, but still readable and engaging. The detail of the landscape (Jubbulpor-Nagpur-Allahabad), well-known to the author, is attractively reproduced, the details of Indian village life and 19th century travel struck me as authentic. Most readers of today will prefer the less melodramatic and more elaborately constructed fictions of Paul Scott. Me too, if I have to choose, but should I come across Nightrunners of Bengal (about the Mutiny) or The Lotus and the Wind (about the wars of the Northwestern Frontier Province) I’ll surely give ‘em a go.