here, Raymond, you're his pal. Keep your eye on him. He's a good lad;
and it would be a pity if he came to grief."

The adjutant did not answer. The major put on his hat.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to see to the hockey myself."

He left the bungalow with a curt nod to Raymond, who watched him pass
out through the compound gate. Then the adjutant walked over to
Wargrave's writing-table and stood up again in its place a large
photograph of Mrs. Norton which he had hurriedly laid face downwards
when he heard Hepburn's voice outside. He looked at it for a minute,
then turned away frowning.

When the morning of the shooting party arrived Wargrave and Raymond,
having sent their _syces_ on ahead with their guns, rode at dawn to the
Residency. In front of the building a group of camels lay on the ground,
burbling, blowing bubbles, grumbling incessantly and stretching out
their long necks to snap viciously at anyone but their drivers that
chanced to come near them. At the hall-door Mrs. Norton stood, dressed
in a smart and attractive costume of khaki drill, consisting of a
well-cut long frock coat and breeches, with the neatest of cloth gaiters
and dainty but serviceable boots. To their surprise her husband was with
her and evidently prepared to accompany them. For he wore an old coat,
knickerbockers and putties, from a strap over his shoulder hung a
specimen box, and he was armed with all the requisite appliances for the
capture and slaughter of many insects.

Avoiding the camels' vicious teeth the party mounted after exchanging
greetings. Mrs. Norton and Wargrave rode the same animal; and Frank,