There was something more than this glittering medal, something more
than this simple tale of bravery. What? Well, if he declined to take
her into his confidence he must have good reason.

After dinner that night the colonel went the rounds, as was his habit
nightly. By and by he returned to the bungalow, but did not enter. He
filled his cutty and walked to and fro in the moonlight, with his head
bent and his hands clasped behind his back. There was a restlessness
in his stride not unlike that of the captive beasts in the cages near
by. Occasionally he paused at the clink clink of the elephant irons or
at the "whuff" as the uneasy pachyderm poured dust on his head.

Bah! It was madness. A parchment in Hindustani, given jestingly or
ironically by a humorous old chap in orders and white linen and
rhinoceros sandals. . . . A throne! Pshaw! It was bally nonsense.
As if a white man could rule over a brown one by the choice of the
latter! And yet, that man Umballa's face, when he had shown the king
the portraits of his two lovely daughters! He would send Ahmed. Ahmed
knew the business as well as he did. He would send his abdication to
the council, giving them the right to choose his successor. He himself
would remain home with the girls. Then he gazed up at the moon and
smiled grimly.

"Hukum hai!" he murmured in Hindustani. "It is the orders. I've
simply got to go. When I recall those rubies and emeralds and
pearls. . . . Well, it's not cupidity for myself. It's for the girls.
Besides; there's the call, the adventure. I've simply got to go. I
can't escape it. I must be always on the go . . . since she died."

A few days later he stood again before the desk in the living-room. He