ned the general sense of indignation, more especially among the
men. But men are not free of speech on these matters, and it was
certain pungent remarks made by little Mrs Riley of the Sikhs which
had set Frank Olliver's Irish temper in a blaze. The recollection of
what she had seen during Desmond's absence still rankled in her mind;
and her husband, with a masculine dread of an open quarrel between the
only two ladies in the Regiment, had accepted the lesser evil of
speaking to Wyndham himself.

"Mind, I give Mrs Desmond credit for being more passive than active in
the whole affair," he concluded, since Paul seemed disinclined to
volunteer a remark. "But the deuce of it is, that I feel sure Desmond
knows less about the thing than any one else. Can you see him putting
up with it under any circumstances?"

Wyndham shook his head; and for a while they smoked in silence
thinking their own thoughts.

"You want me," Paul asked at length, "to pass all this on to Desmond?
Is that it?"

"Yes; that's it. Unless you think he knows it already."

"No,--frankly, I don't. But is it our business to enlighten him?"

"That's a ticklish question. But I'm inclined to think it is. We can't
be expected to stand a bounder like Kresney hanging round one of our
ladies. Why, I met him as I came here, taking her into his bungalow;
and I had only just passed the sister on that old patriarch she rides.
I call that going a bit too far; and I fancy Desmond would agree with
me."

Wyndham looked up decisively.

"I wouldn't repeat _that_ to him, if my life depended on it."

"No, no. Of course not. You can make things clear without saying too
much. Beastly unpleasant job, and I'm sorry to be forcing it on you.
But you must know that you're the only chap in the Regiment who could
dream of speaking two words to Desmond on such a delicate subject."

Paul acknowledged the statement with a wry smile under his moustache.

"I doubt if he will stand it, even from me; and I'd a deal sooner
wring Kresney's neck. But I'll do the best I can, and take my chance
of the consequences to myself."

Thus reassured, Olliver departed, and Wyndham, watching him go,
wondered what he intended to say.

There are few things more distasteful to a well-bred man than the
necessity of speaking to a friend, however intimate, on the subject of
his wife's conduct or character; because there are few things a man
respects more intimately than his fellow-man's reserve. Wyn