“Ruined!” I repeated.
“Yes,” she answered, “at least in a way. The canteen money is gone and he can offer no explanation. The colonel is nearly beside himself, and your brother will have to stand a general court martial. Meanwhile he is to be confined to his quarters in close arrest. There will be an officer in charge of him and a sentry on duty, day and night.”
I attempted to speak, but my voice completely failed me.
“Under these circumstances, dear, you cannot remain here. These are the colonel’s instructions, and George and I wish you to come to us at once.”
“You are most awfully kind,” I replied, “and of course I will not remain if it is irregular, but before I do anything I should like to have a talk with Ronnie.”
“Very well, I expect he will be back directly. Do tell your ayah to pack up your things. George says you are to have his room; he will move into a tent in the compound.”
“You are more than good, dear Mrs. Mills, and I will let you know my plans. Here comes Ronnie,” I exclaimed, as he and one of his brother officers entered the veranda together. Mrs. Mills hastily disappeared over the wall into her own premises, and as I could not face Ronnie’s companion in my present state of mind I withdrew towards my room and beckoned to my brother to follow me.
“Can I speak to my sister for a moment, Carr?” he inquired.
“Oh yes, by all means,” replied Mr. Carr, who I must confess looked excessively uncomfortable—yes, and miserable.
Ronnie then led the way into his den and drew the purdah, but no one could overhear us, as the little room was entirely cut off from the veranda. I sat down and waited for him to speak. As he leant against the wall he looked almost death-like. The wear and tear of the last few months had entirely dimmed his good looks; his eyes were sunken, and there were great hollows in his cheeks.