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“Go!” he said, and the monosyllable came from his lips with the force of an explosive. Gobind Chand’s attendants were on their feet in a moment, and hurried their master out of the tent, Captain Porter, in obedience to a gesture from the Commandant, following them to superintend their departure.

“Haigh!” said Major Keeling, and Sir Dugald detached himself from the rest. “In my office—at once,” and he led the way, Sir Dugald following. For a moment or two Major Keeling’s indignation seemed to deprive him of speech, as he tramped up and down the little room; then he turned suddenly on his subordinate.

“What are you waiting there for? You will take twenty sowars and ride to Nalapur with a letter for the Amir. Go and change your things,” with a withering glance at Sir Dugald’s full-dress uniform, “and the despatches will be ready when you are. Or before,” he added savagely.

It was fortunate that Sir Dugald was a man of even temper, and had some experience of his leader’s peculiarities, for Major Keeling’s manner was unpleasant in the extreme. But as he was leaving the room he was recalled—