massed tramping of men and horses broke up at length, scattered in
all directions, and within five minutes she looked up to find her
husband in the doorway--a thickset man, with more of force than
perception in his blunt features and heavily-browed eyes.

She rose and went to him straightway, her face alight with
satisfaction, and he took a friendly hold of her arm by way of
greeting. They had always been more like good comrades than man and
wife, these two.

"Well, old girl," he said, "there was no show after all, you see. It
seems that the raid didn't quite come off; and we had our scamper for
nothing, worse luck! The Boy going on all right?"

"'Tis hard to tell. He's in a quiet sleep just now, anyway."

"You may as well come out of this, then, and give us some breakfast.
I'm going to the Major's room to tidy up."

As his wife stepped back into the sick-room, Theo Desmond came quickly
towards her.

"Well done," he said heartily; "you didn't expect us quite so soon,
did you? Not a shot fired, and I should have been swearing all the way
home--but for the Boy. Looks peaceful enough now, doesn't he?
Temperature any lower?"

"Just a little, these last few hours. But he's been talking a deal of
madness, poor fellow."

"What about?" he asked sharply. "Money?"

She smiled, with an odd mixture of pride and tenderness in her eyes.

"Faith, I can see what's been happening, Theo, clear as daylight. But
I'll say no word to a soul, not even Geoff; you know that sure
enough."

"Yes, I know it. But I'll feel grateful when he stops airing the
subject."

Her low laugh had a break in it, and he scanned her face keenly.

"You're played out, Frank. I was afraid you were hardly fit for this
sort of thing yet. You don't do a stroke more till to-morrow morning.
Come along now and have five grains of quinine and some food. Amar
Singh can mount guard in case the Boy wakes up."

Paul Wyndham greeted her with his nod and smile, which were apt to
convey more friendliness than other people's words. Desmond set her
ceremoniously in the place of honour; and the 6.30 breakfast, prepared
at ten minutes' notice, and eaten in Mess uniform, proved a remarkably
cheerful affair; one of those simple, commonplace events which, for
all their simplicity, go far to cement friendship and form refreshing
cases along the dusty path of life.

The morning post-bag contained an envelope in Evelyn's handwriting;
and, the Ollivers being gone, Theo r