ng in horror between the heads of the sepoys was hurriedly
withdrawn, and Mahbub Khan, who had lingered to see the end of the
tragedy, turned and pushed his way out of the crowd.

Macdonald found the subaltern lying to all appearances dead on the
broken door out in the open, where they had gently carried him.

"Hold a light here," he cried as he knelt down beside the body.

By now a dozen lanterns or more lit up the scene. The doctor laid his
ear against Wargrave's chest and held a polished cigarette case to his
lips. Then he pulled back the shirt to examine his injuries.

"Oh, is he dead? Is he dead?" cried a trembling voice.

The doctor, looking up angrily, found Miss Benson and Mrs. Dermot
standing over him. The sepoys had silently made way for them.

"You shouldn't be here, ladies," he said with justifiable annoyance.
"This is no place for you. No; he's not dead. And I hope and think that
he won't die."

"Oh, thank God!" cried the two women.

The sepoys crowding round and hanging on the doctor's verdict could not
understand the words but saw the look of joyous relief on their faces
and guessed the truth. A wild, confused cheer went up to the stars.

"Mr. Macdonald," said Mrs. Dermot bending over him again. "Will you
bring him to my house? There is no accommodation for him in your little
hospital, you know; and he'd have no one to look after him in the Mess.
I can nurse him."

The doctor straightened himself on his knee and looked down at the
unconscious man.

"Yes, Mrs. Dermot, it's a good idea," he replied. "There is nowhere else
where he'd get any attention. My hands are full with Major Hunt. He's
taken a turn for the worse. His temperature went up dangerously high
to-night; and he was almost delirious."

He stood up.

"I can't examine Wargrave properly here. He seems to be wounded in two
places. But I hope it's not--I mean, I think he'll pull through. His
pulse is getting stronger. I've put a first dressing on; and I think we
can move him. Hi! stretcher _idher lao_. (Bring the stretcher here!)"

Suddenly Wargrave opened his eyes and looked up in the doctor's face.

"Is that you, Macdonald?" he asked dreamily. "Never mind me; I'm all
right. Go to poor Ashraf Khan. If he must die, at least give him
something to put him out of his misery. I can wait."

His voice trailed off, and he relapsed into unconsciousness. Ordering
him to be carried away the doctor, after a word with the Indian
officers, ent