"Rather a long journey to undertake to see nothing," remarked Mr. Brady drily, "and I think his crow will turn into a cackle. I wonder where the dickens you're all going to live. We are a tight fit as it is, and there's a lot of rain coming—you won't care about a tent?"
"I don't care where you stick me, I'm not particular. When do you think the great water-shoot will come off?"
"Within the next two days, according to the Colonel's calculation. He has gone twenty miles down the Alakanda valley to-day, to inspect the preparations; bridges have been dismantled, the canal protected, villages cleared out, cattle driven off—and all is ready."
"Did you bring any letters, or papers, or news?" inquired Angel, who had been puzzling her brains as to how these three newcomers were to be lodged and fed.
"No, I believe the general has a couple of papers. By the way," and his merry face became grave, "there is a bit of news—bad news at that—you remember Hailes?"
"Captain Hailes? Why, of course I do."
"Well, he has been awfully down on his luck lately, severe financial crisis, talked of losing his commission, and all that. I thought it was just a touch of liver; I'd no idea he was really so hard up."
"Old Hailes likes to gamble a bit," remarked Mr. Brady.
"Poor chap, he will gamble no more. Last Monday he went out to the Tarani dâk bungalow, saying he was going to shoot shicor, and, by George," and the round merry eyes looked tragic, "he shot himself."
"How frightful," said Angel, pausing aghast, "accidental, of course."