The boys looked with keen interest upon the commander-in-chief. They saw a spare man, with a slight stoop, but a soldier to the backbone—an elderly man with furrowed brows, bearing the marks of long and arduous service; but there was no sign of weakness about the firm mouth, or the eyes so clear and alert.
“Yes, that’s the commander-in-chief,” said Paterson again. “Now, Ted, I’ve shown you round, and it’s your turn to enlighten me now. I only know the bare facts that you have been cleared, and that Tynan is a howling cad.”
So Ted had once more to tell what had befallen Tynan and himself at Lahore, and when he had finished the narrative, Alec asked:
“And what became of Pir Baksh?”
“He was condemned to death and shot the day before I left Lahore. Colonel Woodburn and Munro were almost as pleased as I was when the truth came out, for I really think that they believed that I had been unjust to poor Tynan. But Ethel Woodburn had stuck up for me through thick and thin.”
“Miss Woodburn is the nicest, jolliest girl in India,” said Alec with conviction, “and your brother’s a jolly lucky fellow.”
“He is so. Yes, she’s all that and more, and she kept my spirits up when I was feeling jolly well down in the mouth. Wasn’t she glad when I was cleared! It was almost worth while having gone through it all. I don’t suppose I’ll ever see Tynan again. Poor beggar, I’m sorry for him, for I don’t think he ever meant to do it.”
“What became of those Rajputs he’d bribed?”
“They were dismissed from the service. Dwarika Rai begged my pardon before he went. He said that he hadn’t understood that his evidence might disgrace me until it was too late for him to draw back, and I believed him.”
“It was a funny business altogether,” was Claude’s opinion, given in a tone of unusual thoughtfulness. “The man must have been mad.”