"It's a case of possession," said one to his neighbor.
"Pardon me," said another, who had known the Major for years. "It's a case of casting out. I wonder----" The speaker paused and shrugged his shoulders.
"Did you hear his name had gone up for the V. C.?" began his companion.
"Gone up! My dear fellow! It might have gone up fifty times over. But it isn't his pluck that I wonder at; it is his steadiness. He never shirks the little things. It is almost as if he had found a conscience."
Perhaps he had. He was cheerful enough to have had the testimony of a good one, as, in passing, he looked in on Jim Douglas and met his congratulations.
"Bad shilling!" replied the Major, beautifully unconscious. "So you've heard--and--hello! what's up?" For Jim Douglas was busy getting into disguise.
"That old scoundrel Tiddu came into camp with the news an hour ago," said the latter, whose face was by no means cheerful. "He was out carrying grain--saw the fugitives, and came in here, hoping for backsheesh, I believe. But"--Jim Douglas looked round rapidly at the Major--"I'm awfully afraid, Erlton, that he has not been in Delhi, to speak of, since I left. And I was relying on him for news----"
"There isn't any--is there?" broke in Major Erlton with a queer hush in his voice.
"None. But there may be. So I'm off at once. I couldn't have a better chance. The villain says the sepoys are slipping in on the sly in hundreds; for the Palace folk, or at least the King, thinks the troops are still engaged, and is sending out reinforcements. So I shall have no trouble in getting through the gates."
Major Erlton, radiant, splashed from head to foot, covered at once with mud and glory, looked at the man opposite him with a curious deliberation.