CONTENTS
| PAGE | |
| PART I | [1] |
| CHAPTER I | [1] |
| CHAPTER II | [11] |
| CHAPTER III | [24] |
| CHAPTER IV | [38] |
| CHAPTER V | [45] |
| CHAPTER VI | [62] |
| CHAPTER VII | [69] |
| CHAPTER VIII | [80] |
| PART II | [93] |
| CHAPTER IX | [93] |
| CHAPTER X | [104] |
| CHAPTER XI | [114] |
| CHAPTER XII | [127] |
| CHAPTER XIII | [137] |
| CHAPTER XIV | [141] |
| CHAPTER XV | [149] |
| CHAPTER XVI | [161] |
| CHAPTER XVII | [167] |
| CHAPTER XVIII | [181] |
| CHAPTER XIX | [196] |
| CHAPTER XX | [206] |
| CHAPTER XXI | [212] |
| PART III | [218] |
| CHAPTER XXII | [218] |
| CHAPTER XXIII | [228] |
| CHAPTER XXIV | [243] |
| CHAPTER XXV | [254] |
| CHAPTER XXVI | [265] |
| CHAPTER XXVII | [270] |
| CHAPTER XXVIII | [286] |
| CHAPTER XXIX | [300] |
A NINE DAYS’ WONDER
PART I
CHAPTER I
A tall grey-haired soldier, with a professionally straight back, stood looking out of an upper window in the “Rag” one wet October afternoon. His hands were buried in his pockets, and his face was clothed with an expression of almost mediæval gloom. The worldly wise mask their emotions so that those who run may not read, but Colonel Doran had lived so many years among a primitive race that he made no effort to conceal his feelings, and all the world was welcome to see that he was bored to death. To tell the truth, he had been too long in the East to appreciate club life. Other men were undoubtedly contented, interested, occupied; it was different in his case. The palatial dignity, solemnity, luxury of the place failed to stir his pride; even its traditions left him as cold as the marble statue on the great staircase. He would have felt ten times more at home in a Bombay chair, on a brick verandah, with the old Pioneer in his hands and a “Trichy” in his mouth.