arke wished that he could guess his reason, for it
might affect the situation.

"That is correct," he said. "I have a good deal to tell you, and it
may take some time."

Challoner motioned to him to be seated, and offered him a cigar; and
Clarke lighted it before he spoke.

"Your nephew," he began, "spent a week in the settlement where I live,
preparing for a journey to the North. Though his object was secret, I
believe he went in search of something to make varnish of, because he
took with him a young American traveler for a paint factory, besides
another man."

"I know all that," Challoner replied. "I heard about his American
companion; who was the other?"

"We will come to him presently. There is still something which I think
you do not know."

"Yes?" Challoner said.

He was suspicious, for his visitor's looks were not in his favor.

Clarke gave the Colonel a keen glance.

"It concerns your nephew's earlier history."

"That is of most importance to himself and me. It can't interest you."

"It interests me very much," Clarke returned, with an ironical smile.
"I must ask you to let me tell you what I know."

Challoner consented, and Clarke gave what the Colonel admitted was a
very accurate account of the action on the Indian frontier.

"Well," he concluded, "the orders were to hold on--they could send for
support if very hard pressed, but they mustn't yield a yard of ground.
It was hot work in front of the trench upon the ridge--the natives
pouring into it at one end--but the men held their ground, until--there
was an order given--in a white man's voice--and the bugle called them
off. Somebody had ventured to disobey instructions, and after that the
hill was lost. The bugler was killed, so they could learn nothing from
him."

Clarke paused a moment and narrowed his eyes. "Now," he said "it is of
vital importance to you to know who gave that order to retreat."

"That question has been answered and settled," Challoner replied
severely.

"I think incorrectly."

"Yes?" the Colonel queried again. "Perhaps you will let me have your
theory as to what occurred."

That was the opportunity for which Clarke was waiting. His argument
had been cleverly worked out, his points carefully arranged; and
Challoner's heart sank, for the damaging inference could hardly be
shirked.

"Your suggestions are plausible, but you can't seriously expect me to
attach much weight to them," Challoner said. "Besides