confirm the doubt in Tommy's mind. Spirits were
not very high at the mess just then. Nearly all the women had left for
the Hills, and the increasing heat was beginning to make life a burden.
The younger officers did their best to be cheerful, and one of them,
Bertie Oakes, a merry, brainless youngster, even proposed an impromptu
dance to enliven the proceedings. But he did not find many supporters.
Men were tired after the polo. Colonel Mansfield and Major Burton were
deeply engrossed with some news that had been brought by Barnes of the
Police, and no one mustered energy for more than talk.

Tommy soon decided to leave early and return to his letters. Before
departing, he looked round for Monck as was his custom, but finding that
he and Captain Ermsted had also been drawn into the discussion with the
Colonel, he left the mess alone.

Back in The Green Bungalow he flung off his coat and threw himself down
in his shirt-sleeves on the verandah to read his sister's letter. The
light from the red-shaded lamp streamed across the pages. Stella had
written very fully of their wanderings, but her companion she scarcely
mentioned.

It was like a gorgeous dream, she said. Each day seemed to bring
greater beauties. They had spent the first two at Agra to see the
wonderful Taj which of course was wholly beyond description. Thence they
had made their way to Rawal Pindi where Ralph had several military
friends to be introduced to his bride. It was evident that he was
anxious to display his new possession, and Tommy frowned a little over
that episode, realizing fully why Stella touched so lightly upon it. For
some reason his dislike of Dacre was increasing rapidly, and he read the
letter very critically. It was the first with any detail that she had
written. From Rawal Pindi they had journeyed on to exquisite Murree set
in the midst of the pines where only to breathe was the keenest
pleasure. Stella spoke almost wistfully of this place; she would have
loved to linger there.

"I could be happy there in perfect solitude," she wrote, "with just
Peter the Great to take care of me." She mentioned the Sikh bearer more
than once and each time with growing affection. "He is like an immense
and kindly watch-dog," she said in one place. "Every material comfort
that I could possibly wish for he manages somehow to procure, and he is
always on guard, always there when wanted, yet never in the way."

Their time being limited and Ralph anxious