xcept from very few. I believe he was never
happy. I believe--it killed him. I was cherishing a hope that, now,
things might be better. But I am beginning to see--I may be wrong. Safer
to see it in time----"

Roy looked genuinely distressed. "Poor old Dyan. Perhaps you're right. I
don't know much about British India. But it does seem hard lines--and
bad policy--to choke off men like you."

"Yes. They might consider _that_ more, if they heard some of our
fire-eaters. One was at me last week. He gave the British ten years to
survive. Said their lot could raise a revolution to-morrow if they had
money--a trifle of five millions! He was swearing the Indian princes are
not loyal, in spite of talk and subscriptions; that the Army will join
whichever side gives best pay. We who _are_ loyal need _some_
encouragement--some recognition. We are only human----!"

"Rather. But _you_ won't go back on our little show, old chap. Just when
I'm dead keen--laying my plans for India----"

He took hold of Dyan's upper arm and gave it a friendly shake.

"No, I'll stick to that. But are you sure you can work it--with your
people? If _you_ back out, I swear, by the sin of the sack of Chitor,
I'll join the beastly crowd who are learning to make bombs in Berlin."

At that--the most solemn oath that can pass the lips of a Rajput--Roy
looked startled. Then he laughed.

"'Commem' seems to have disagreed with you all round! But I won't be
intimidated. Likewise--I won't back out. I intend opening diplomatic
conversations with Jeffers to-night. Recherche dinner for two in my
room. All his little weaknesses! He'd be a strong ally. Wish me luck."

Dyan wished him luck in a rather perfunctory tone, considering his
vehemence of a moment earlier. All the fire seemed suddenly to have gone
out of him.

They had just entered the college gate; and a few yards ahead, they
caught sight of Lady Despard and Tara--the girl's hand linked through
her mother's arm.

"Oh, I clean forgot," remarked Roy. "I said they could look in."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: Own country.]

CHAPTER III.

"It is the spirit of the quest which helps. I am the slave of this
spirit of the quest."--KABIR.

Roy's recherche little dinner proved an unqualified success. With sole
and chicken saute, with trifle and savoury, he mutely pleaded his cause;
feeling vaguely guilty, the while, of belittling his childhood's idol,
whom he increasingly admired and loved. B