he would be called upon to justify his
own unwisdom at so critical a juncture, when all hearts were set on
winning the coveted Punjab Cup.

And justification was out of the question,--there lay the sting.

Loyalty to Evelyn sealed his lips; and even the loss of his best-loved
pony was less hard to bear than the possibility of being misjudged by
his brother officers, whose faith in him had come to be an integral
part of his life.

In his present cooler frame of mind he saw that his action had been
over-hasty; but with men of vehement temperament, to think is to feel,
to feel is to act,--reflection comes last, if it ever comes at all.
The first heat of vexation, the discovery of his wife's
untrustworthiness and the sacrifice it entailed, had blinded him to
all minor considerations.

But these were details that could not be put into words. The thing was
done. To put a brave face on it, and to shield Evelyn from the result
of her own misdoing--there lay his simple duty in a nutshell. The risk
must be accepted, and the Punjab Cup carried off in its despite. This
man owed more than he knew to the "beholden face of victory"; to his
life-long determination that, no matter what happened, he must
conquer.

In the meanwhile immediate issues demanded his full attention.

Harry Denvil, as might be expected, sounded the first note of protest.

He invaded the sacred precincts of his senior's study with audacious
lack of ceremony.

"Forgive me, Desmond: but there was no one in the verandah, and I
couldn't wait. Of course you know what's in the wind. The Colonel came
on that advertisement of yours in 'The Pioneer' just before tiffin,
and you should have heard him swear! He showed it to Major Wyndham,
and asked: 'Was it a practical joke?' But the Major seemed quite cut
up; said he knew nothing about it, and you would probably have good
reasons to give. The rest didn't take it so quietly; but of course _I_
understood at once. For God's sake, old chap, cancel that confounded
advertisement, and take back your eight hundred. I can borrow it again
from the _shroff_, just for the present. Anything's better than
letting you in for the loss of Diamond at a time like this."

He broke off more from lack of breath than lack of matter; and
Desmond, who had risen to cope with the intruder, put both hands upon
the Boy's shoulders, a great kindliness softening his eyes.

"My dear Harry, don't distress yourself," he said. "I appreciate your