he comes
here on his annual inspection."

The remark was very characteristic of Colonel Trevor, who was a man who
dreaded responsibility and whose sole object in life was to reach safely
the time when, his period of command being finished, he could retire on
his full pension. He was always haunted by the dread that some
carelessness or mistake on his part or that of any of his subordinates
might involve him in trouble with his superiors and prevent that happy
consummation of his thirty years of Indian service. This fear made him
merciless to anyone under him whose conduct might bring the censure of
the higher authorities on the innocent head of the Commanding Officer
who was in theory responsible for the behaviour of his juniors. It was
commonly said in the regiment that he would cheerfully give up his own
brother to be hanged to save himself the mildest official reprimand.
Perhaps he was not altogether to blame; for he was not his own master in
private life. It was hinted that Colonel Trevor commanded the battalion
but that Mrs. Trevor commanded him. And unfortunately there was no doubt
that this lady interfered privately a good deal in regimental matters,
much to the annoyance of the other officers.

Now, relieved of the incubus that had hitherto spoiled his enjoyment of
the evening, the Colonel gratefully drank the whiskey and soda brought
him by Ross's order and sat down cheerfully to play bridge. He always
liked dining in the Mess, where he was a far more important person than
he was in his own house.

It did not take Wargrave long to settle down again into the routine of
regimental life and the humdrum existence of a small Indian station. But
he had never before been quartered in so remote and dull a spot as
Rohar. The only distractions it offered besides the shooting and
pigsticking were two tennis afternoons weekly, one at the Residency, the
other at the Mess. Here the dozen or so Europeans, who knew every line
of each other's faces by heart gathered regularly from sheer boredom
whether the game amused them or not. Neither Mrs. Trevor nor her
bosom-friend Mrs. Baird, the regimental surgeon's better half, ever
attempted it; but they invariably attended and sat together, usually
talking scandal of Mrs. Norton as she played or chatted with the men.
Mrs. Trevor's chief grievance against her was that the General
Commanding the Division, when he came to inspect the battalion, took the
younger woman in to dinner, fo