few moments. Then
the meaning of the message dawned on her. She sat down at her
writing-table and thought hard. She had little time in which to make up
her mind; for if she wished to reach Bombay before Rosenthal sailed she
would have to leave Darjeeling that afternoon. What should she do?
Should she go? She found a pencil and a telegraph form and addressed the
latter to the Hussar. Then she hesitated. But she was not long in coming
to a decision. With a firm hand she wrote the one word "Yes" and signed
her name. Then she rose from the table, called a hotel servant,
despatched the telegram and went to her bedroom to pack. And the same
train that took her away from Darjeeling carried a letter from her to
Wargrave.

But the subaltern did not receive it until more than a week afterwards,
when he returned to Ranga Duar with Tashi after chasing back across the
Border a mongrel pack of _dacoits_--brigands--who had been harrying
Bhuttia villages in British territory. The letter lay on the table in
the room which he still occupied in the Mess, although he was no longer
an officer of the detachment, together with a pile of correspondence
that had accumulated during his absence. Recognising Violet's writing on
the envelope he tore it open anxiously. He rapidly scanned the first
page, stared at it incredulously, read it again carefully and then
finished the letter. It ran:

"My dear Frank,

"I am going to relieve your mind of a great weight and send you into
the seventh heaven of delight by giving you the glad news that you
are never likely to see me again. Before the week is ended I shall
have left India for ever with someone who can give me all I want and
not condemn me to a poverty-stricken existence in a wretched little
jungle station, which is all that you had to offer me. I know it was
not your fault and you are really a dear boy. I was very fond of
you; but you did not love me and we would have been very miserable
together. For you would be always pining for your jungle girl and I
would have hated you for it. Now we part good friends and she is
welcome to you. I ought to tell you that I did not really write to
my husband as I said I did.

"I wish you luck--won't you wish me the same?

"Yours affectionately,

"VIOLET."

When he had thoroughly grasped the meaning of this extraordinary letter
he forgave her everything in the joy of knowing that she had se