uriel Benson remained. Colonel
Dermot had been called away to Simla, to confer with officials of the
Foreign Department on matters of frontier policy. Major Hunt was ill
with fever, leaving Wargrave, who was still nominally attached to the
Military Police, in command of the detachment.

It was delicious torture to Frank to be in the same place again with
Muriel, to see her from the parade ground or the Mess verandah playing
in the garden with the children, to meet her every day and talk to her
and yet be obliged to school his lips and keep them from uttering the
words that trembled on them.

A few nights after the Durbar he dined with Mrs. Dermot and Muriel and
was sitting on the verandah of the Political Officer's house with them
after dinner. He was wearing white mess uniform. The evening was warm
and very still, and whenever the conversation died away, no sound save
the monotonous note of the nightjars or the sudden cry of a
barking-deer, broke the silence since the echoes of the "Lights Out"
bugle call had died away among the hills.

Wargrave looked at his watch.

"It's past eleven o'clock," he said. "I'd no idea it was so late. I
ought to get up and say goodnight; but I'm so comfortable here, Mrs.
Dermot."

His hostess smiled lazily at him but made no reply. Again a peaceful
hush fell on them.

With startling suddenness it was broken. From the Fort four hundred
yards away a rifle-shot rang out, rending the silence of the night and
reverberating among the hills around. Wargrave sprang to his feet as
shouts followed and a bugle shrilled out the soul-gripping "Alarm," the
call that sends a thrill through every soldier's frame. For always it
tells of disaster. Heard thus at night in barracks swift following on a
shot it spoke of crime, of murder, the black murder of a comrade.

The two women had risen anxiously.

"What is it? Oh, what is it?" they asked.

The subaltern spoke lightly to re-assure them.

"Nothing much, I expect. Some man on guard fooling with his rifle let it
off by accident," he said quietly. "Excuse me. I'd better stroll across
to the Fort and see."

But Mrs. Dermot stopped him.

"Wait a moment please, Mr. Wargrave," she said, running into the house.
She returned immediately with her husband's big automatic pistol and
handed it to him. In her left hand she held a smaller one. "Take this
with you. It's loaded," she said.

Frank thanked her, said goodnight to both calmly, and walked down