damned rain first!"

They entered the bungalow and sat down for another smoke in the
drawing-room.

Down by the river a native instrument thrummed monotonously, like the
whirring of a giant mosquito in the darkness. Everard turned with a
slight gesture of impatience and closed the window.

He established his brother in a long chair with a drink at his elbow,
and sat down himself without any pretence at taking his ease.

"You don't look particularly comfortable," Bernard observed.

"Don't mind me!" he made curt response. "I've got a touch of fever
to-night. It's nothing. I shall be all right in the morning."

"Sure?" Bernard's eyes suddenly ceased to be quizzical; they looked at
him straight and hard.

Everard met the look, faintly smiling. "I don't lie about--unimportant
things," he remarked cynically. "Light up, man, and fire away!"

He struck a match for his brother's pipe and kindled his own cigarette
thereat.

There fell a brief silence. Bernard did not look wholly satisfied. But
after a few seconds he seemed to dismiss the matter and began to talk of
himself.

"You want to know my plans, old chap. Well, as far as I know 'em myself,
you are quite welcome. With your permission, I propose, for the present,
to stay where I am."

"I shouldn't if I were you." Everard spoke with brief decision. "You'd
be far better off at Bhulwana till the end of the rains."

Bernard puffed forth a great cloud of smoke and stared at the ceiling.
"That is as may be, dear fellow," he said, after a moment. "But I
think--if you'll put up with me--I'll stay here for the present all the
same."

He spoke in that peculiarly gentle voice of his that yet held
considerable resolution. Everard made no attempt to combat the decision.
Perhaps he realized the uselessness of such a proceeding.

"Stay by all means!" he said, "but what's the idea?"

Bernard took his pipe from his mouth. "I have a big fight before me,
Everard boy," he said, "a fight against the sort of prejudice that
kicked me out of the Charthurst job. It's got to be fought with the
pen--since I am no street corner ranter. I have the solid outlines of
the campaign in my head, and I have come out here to get right away
from things and work it out."

"Going to reform creation?" suggested Everard, with his grim smile.

Bernard shook his head, smiling in answer as though the cynicism had not
reached him. "No, that's not my job. I am only a man under
authority--like yourse