e whether he
was relieved or disappointed by his absence. On the one hand, he could
hardly have borne Grogan's twaddle on the journey to Tilbury, his mind
being engrossed as it was. On the other, he looked to him to cover his
presence at the boat.

Now that he was started on the adventure he was nervously anxious lest
he should compromise his girl by betraying to Langrishe the errand he
was come on, unless, indeed, Langrishe gave him the lead. He was as
sensitive as Nelly herself could have been about offering her where she
was not desired or was likely to be rejected. But he assured himself
that everything would be right. In the sudden surprise of seeing him,
Langrishe would say or do something that would give him a lead. He would
be able to bring back a message of hope to Nelly. Five years--after all,
what were five years? Especially to a girl as young as Nelly. They could
wait very well till Langrishe came home again.

At the booking-office he was told that the special train for the
_Sutlej_ had just gone. Another train for Tilbury was leaving in five
minutes.

"You will get in soon after the special," the booking-clerk assured him.
"Plenty of time to see your friends before she sails. Why, she's not due
to sail till twelve o'clock. There'll be a deal of luggage to be got on
board."

The General unfolded his _Standard_ in the railway carriage, and turned
to the principal page of news. A big headline, followed by a number of
smaller ones, caught his eye: "Outrage at Shawur. An English Officer and
Five Sepoys Caught in a Trap. Death of Major Sayers. Regiment Sent in
Pursuit. Statement in the House."

The General bent his brows over the report. He had known poor Sayers--a
most distinguished soldier, but brave to rashness. And the Wazees tribe,
treacherous rascals! The General had some experience of them too. Ah, so
Mordaunt was sent in pursuit. The tribe had retired after the murder to
its fastnesses in the hills. He remembered those fortified towers in the
hill valleys. He had had to smoke them out once like rats in a hole. Ah,
poor Sayers! The brutes! And Sayers had a young wife!

He lifted his head from the paper, and stared out of the carriage
windows, where tiny cottages, with neat white stones for their garden
borders, showed that the train was passing through a residential
district much affected by retired sailor-men. The mast of a ship seemed
to be a favourite ornament, and a little flag was hoisted on ma