“I’m very hungry, thanks. What force is yours?”
“Oh, I beg your pardon! I’m Captain Hornby of the Kumaon Gurkha Battalion. I’ve a hundred men here, and we are en route for Sadalpur. We are expecting orders from John Lawrence—for Delhi, I hope. I won’t listen to your tale until you’ve finished.”
The meal over, the fugitive narrated his adventures since the outbreak of the mutiny until the moment of his rescue. When he came to the account of the explosion he hesitated, and finally said: “We decided to blow it up rather than allow it to fall into the hands of the rebels.”
Ted Russell had also used the word “we”, but from what different motives!
“You were senior officer?” questioned the captain.
“Yes.”
“Good!” Hornby held out his hand. “I’m proud to shake hands with you. I heard a rumour yesterday that the Aurungpore arsenal had been blown up.”
Harry Tynan felt ready to sink into the ground with shame. His hand fell limp from the grasp, and he hastily resumed his story.
“I can’t make up my mind about Pir Baksh,” he said. “He may have been only pretending to fall in with the views of the majority, but if so, he was a very good actor.”
“You’ve had a rough time, youngster, so just lie down and sleep as well as you can. There’s my mattress, and I’ll get another. Good-night! I’m going the rounds.”