om the new and democratic West, that
his uncle, shrewd and well-informed man as he was, was very much of the
type of Wellington's officers. For all that he pitied him. Challoner
looked old and worn, and there were wrinkles that hinted at anxious
thought round his eyes. His life was lonely, and his unmarried sister,
who spent much of her time in visits, was the only relative who shared
his home. Now that age was limiting his activities and interests, he
had one great source of gratification; the career of the soldier son
who was worthily following in his steps. His nephew determined that
this should be saved for him, as he remembered the benefits he had
received at his hands.

By and by Challoner filled the glasses. "Dick," he said, "I'm very
glad to see you home. I should like to think you have come to stay."

"Thank you, sir. I'll stay as long as you need me."

"I feel I need you altogether. It's now doubtful whether Bertram will
leave India after all. His regiment has been ordered into the hills
where there's serious trouble brewing, and he has asked permission to
remain. Even if he comes home, he will have many duties, and I have
nobody left."

Blake did not answer immediately, and his uncle studied him. Dick had
grown thin, but he looked very hard, and the evening dress set off his
fine, muscular figure. His face was still somewhat pinched, but its
deep bronze and the steadiness of his eyes and firmness of his lips
gave him a very soldierly look and a certain air of distinction. There
was no doubt that he was true to the Challoner type.

Then Blake said slowly, "I must go back sooner or later, sir; there is
an engagement I am bound to keep. Besides, your pressing me to stay
raises a question. The last time we met you acquiesced in my decision
that I had better keep out of the country, and I see no reason for
changing it."

"The question must certainly be raised; that is why I sent for you.
You can understand my anxiety to learn what truth there is in the
stories I have heard."

"It might be better if you told me all about it."

"Very well; the task is painful, but it can't be shirked. We'll take
the woman's tale first." Challoner carefully outlined Mrs. Chudleigh's
theory of what had happened during the night attack and Blake listened
quietly.

"Now," he said, "you might give me Clarke's account."

Challoner did so and concluded: "Both these people have an obvious end
to serve, and I d