"My own business is more pressing," Monck returned briefly.

Then Tommy remembered the stricken look that he had surprised on his
friend's face that evening, and swift concern swallowed his
astonishment. "You had bad news from Home! I say, I'm awfully sorry. Is
your brother ill, or what?"

"No. It's not that. I can't discuss it with you, Tommy. But I've got to
go. The Chief has granted me eight weeks and I am off at dawn." Monck
made as if he would turn inwards with the words.

"You're going Home?" ejaculated Tommy. "By Jove, old fellow, it'll be
quick work." Then, his sympathy coming uppermost again, "I say, I'm
confoundedly sorry. You'll take care of yourself?"

"Oh, every care." Monck paused to lay an unexpected hand upon the lad's
shoulder. "And you must take care of yourself, Tommy," he said. "Don't
get up to any tomfoolery while I am away! And if you get thirsty, stick
to lime-juice!"

"I'll be as good as gold," Tommy promised, touched alike by action and
admonition. "But it will be pretty beastly without you. I hate a lonely
life, and Stella will be stuck at Bhulwana for the rest of the hot
weather when they get back."

"Well, I shan't stay away for ever," Monck patted his shoulder and
turned away. "I'm not going for a pleasure trip, and the sooner it's
over, the better I shall be pleased."

He passed into the room with the words, that room in which Stella had