"Hullo, Tommy!" he said, a shadowy smile about his mouth. "What are you
in such a deuce of a hurry about?"

Tommy glanced down at the letters on the table and pounced upon the one
that lay uppermost. "A letter from Stella! And about time, too! She
isn't much of a correspondent now-a-days. Where are they now? Oh,
Srinagar. Lucky beggar--Dacre! Wish he'd taken me along as well as
Stella! What am I in such a hurry about? Well, my dear chap, look at the
time! You'll be late for mess yourself if you don't buck up."

Tommy's treatment of his captain was ever of the airiest when they were
alone. He had never stood in awe of Monck since the days of his
illness; but even in his most familiar moments his manner was not
without a certain deference. His respect for him was unbounded, and his
pride in their intimacy was boyishly whole-hearted. There was no
sacrifice great or small that he would not willingly have offered at
Monck's behest.

And Monck knew it, realized the lad's devotion as pure gold, and valued
it accordingly. But, that fact notwithstanding, his faith in Tommy's
discretion did not move him to bestow his unreserved confidence upon
him. Probably to no man in the world could he have opened his secret
soul. He was not of an expansive nature. But Tommy occupied an inner
place in his regard, and there were some things that he veiled from all
beside which he no longer attempted to hide from this faithful follower
of his. Thus far was Tommy privileged.

He got to his feet in response to the boy's last remark. "Yes, you're
right. We ought to be going. I shall be interested to hear what your