ve discussed the matter with my Second in Command, and he agrees with
me. You can go. Raymond, make out the necessary warrants for Mr.
Wargrave's journey and give him an advance of a month's pay. He will
leave to-morrow. Tell the Quartermaster to make the necessary
arrangements."

Frank bit his lip. His years of discipline and the respect for authority
engrained in him since his entrance to Sandhurst kept the mutinous words
back. He saluted punctiliously and, turning about smartly walked out of
the Orderly Room. In the glaring sunshine he strode out of the compound
and down the white, dusty road to his bungalow, his brain in a whirl,
blind to everything, seeing neither the sepoys saluting him nor his
_syce_ hurrying after him and dragging the pony by the bridle.

When he reached his house he entered the sitting-room and dropped into a
chair. His "boy" approached salaaming and asked if he should go to the
Mess to order the Sahib's breakfast to be got ready. Wargrave waved him
away impatiently.

He sat staring unseeingly at the wall. He could not think coherently. He
felt dazed. His bewildered brain seemed to be revolving endlessly round
the thought of the telegram from Headquarters and the Colonel's words "I
will not have an officer like you under my command." What was the
meaning of it all? What had he done? A pang shot through him at the
sudden remembrance of Colonel Trevor's assertion that Major Hepburn
agreed with him. Frank held the Second in Command in high respect, for
he knew him to be an exceptionally good soldier and a gentleman in every
sense of the word. Had he so disgraced himself then that Hepburn
considered the Colonel's action justified? But how?

He shifted uneasily in his chair and his eyes fell on Mrs. Norton's
portrait. At the sight of it his Company Commander's advice to him about
her and Mrs. Trevor's spiteful remarks flashed across his mind. Could
Violet be mixed up in all this? Was his friendship with her perhaps the
cause of the trouble? He dismissed the idea at once. There was nothing
to be ashamed of in their relations.

A figure darkened the doorway. It was Raymond. Wargrave sprang up and
rushed to him.

"What in Heaven's name is it all about, Ray?" he cried. "Is the Colonel
mad?"

The adjutant took off his helmet and flung it on the table.

"Well, tell me. What the devil have I done?" said his friend
impatiently.

Raymond tried to speak but failed.

"Go on, man. What is it?" crie