th his light, youthful sinews of iron might well be a match for many a
man, especially as his purpose was like steel, and that is ever half the
battle. But there was the chance of other soldiers being within call,
and that might mean failure. Now, _that_ must not be. Roy had to
succeed--he must!

Therefore the roof was the wiser, safer plan; he must make for the
stairs, trusting to escape notice when the sentry's back was turned.
Till then--silence!

But even as he settled this in his mind Fate was against him. As he
crouched in the darkness something cold suddenly touched his face, and
the next moment a clamour of excited yappings and joyful barks arose,
as something warm and furry and cold and slobbery flung itself all over
him.

Tumbu! It could be nothing but blundering, bumbling Tumbu! He made one
useless effort to still the dog, then rose to his feet feeling himself
discovered, prepared to run for it. But it was too late. A sentry,
lantern in hand, roused by the commotion, barred the way. All seemed
lost, but a ray of hope shone when the familiar voice of the Afghan
sentry, the unrepentant turncoat, was heard as the lantern waved in
Roy's very face.

"By my word, one of the Kings! How come you hither at this time o'
night, friend?"

The voice was a little thick, as if the owner, finding the quiet of the
Delhi Gate wearisome, had sought amusement in a skin of wine.

Roy gave a gasp--he was too confused for thought. "The dog--" he began.

"Aye! The dog that was yours and is mine," jeered the sentry. "So he
nosed you out, did he? Knows his duty--good dog, Tumbu! Knows his master
now! Knows who saved him from starvation when he was lurking about in
the gutter. Eh! you brute!"

He lunged a kick at Tumbu, who retreated a step, looking from the new to
the old master, feeling, in truth, a trifle confused. For the Afghan
sentry had certainly found him homeless, friendless, and the dog had
stuck by him, feeling that here at least was something vaguely connected
with the past life. But now he stood doubtful, expectant, his little
ears pricked, his small eyes watchful.

"Well," continued the sentry with a half-drunken laugh, "dog or no dog,
you've no business here, so come along with me, my King."

He reached out a heavy hand, and Roy shrunk from it. As he did so there
came a sound which sent the blood to Roy's heart with a spasm of instant
hope, of possible escape. It was Tumbu's low growl as he realised that
som