“Sorry I can’t do that, Mr. Tynan, but I have orders to take you back before Sir John. By Jove, I’ll say all I can for you, though, and though Jan Larens can be stern he’s really kindness itself. Make a clean breast of it, youngster.”
They rode back in silence, and the pretended rebels repaired to their comrades of the Sikh Cavalry to relate a marvellous story of the wisdom of Jan Larens, from whom nothing could remain hidden. The great statesman was still hard at work at his unending task, but when he heard the lieutenant’s tale he bade him send Tynan in. He greeted the boy with mingled kindness and sadness.
“This is a pitiable tale, youngster,” he said, “though you have done your best to redeem it to-night, I am told. Tell me all about it, and keep nothing back. Regard me as one who wishes to help you.”
Tynan broke down under the prolonged strain, and, bursting into tears, sobbed like a child. Bit by bit the grim though kindly ruler drew forth the whole story of temptation, hesitation, and fall, of misery and of lie upon lie that had gradually sunk the boy deeper in the morass.
“Sit down,” he said. “You have been punished. Are you sorry it has all come to light?”
“Indeed I am not, sir. I feel as though a great weight had been taken away. I suppose I shall be hounded from the service at least, sir.”
“I hardly think you would wish to remain in the army?” said Sir John gravely.
“I want to get away from everyone, sir, and I know I don’t deserve any consideration. But I never meant to do it, sir. He led me on, and got me in his power.”
“You have been punished—and you may be thankful for it, my lad, for you will have a better chance of a happy useful life than had your claim proved successful. This evening you acted like a man, and I will take upon myself to accept your resignation.”
“Thank you, sir!” said Tynan joyfully, for he had never expected this. “Oh, thank you, sir! I will try to do better.”