“One word more, sir,” cried the tramp, for the other was turning away, “I've been in the Tarada Pass.”
The old soldier sprang round as if the words had been a pistol-shot.
“What—what d'ye mean?” he stammered.
“I've been in the Tarada Pass, sir, and I knew a man there called Ghoolab Shah.”
These last were hissed out in an undertone, and a malicious grin overspread the face of the speaker.
Their effect upon the general was extraordinary. He fairly staggered back from the gateway, and his yellow countenance blanched to a livid, mottled grey. For a moment he was too overcome to speak. At last he gasped out:
“Ghoolab Shah? Who are you who know Ghoolab Shah?”
“Take another look,” said the tramp, “your sight is not as keen as it was forty years ago.”
The general took a long, earnest look at the unkempt wanderer in front of him, and as he gazed I saw the light of recognition spring up in his eyes.
“God bless my soul!” he cried. “Why, it's Corporal Rufus Smith.”