even ascertained in an aside, that the doctor of the day was busy
operating, and broke that good news with consummate tact:

"The sahibs' lightest wish is law, but if they should wish to speak with
the doctor sahib, it would be necessary to call him forth from the
surgery, where he works behind locked doors. Is it desired that I
should summon him?"

"Operation serious?" asked Grim, and neither man smiled. It was perfect
acting.

"Very, sahib. He removes the half of a sepoy's liver."

"Uh! Couldn't think of interrupting him. Too bad! Lead the way."

But we didn't enter the ward until Narayan Singh and an orderly had
placed two screens around number nineteen cot, in the way they do when a
man is dying, and had placed three chairs at the bedside contrary to the
regulations printed on the wall. Then Narayan Singh stood on guard
outside the screens, but didn't miss much of the conversation, I
believe.

The man in bed was wounded badly, but not fatally, and though his eyes
blazed with fever he seemed to have some of his wits about him. He
recognized Grim after staring hard at him for about a minute.

"Jimgrim!"

"Sidi bin Tagim, isn't it? Well, well I thought it might be you," said
Grim, speaking the northern dialect of Arabic, which differs quite a bit