“I was afraid you would hardly bring that news, Mr. Bathurst; it was almost too good to hope for. However, we are all glad that you are back. Are we not, Isobel?”
“We are indeed, Mr. Bathurst, though as yet I can hardly persuade myself that it is you in that get up.”
“I think there is no doubt of my identity. Can you tell me where you uncle is, Miss Hannay? I have to make my report to him.”
“He is on the roof. There is a sort of general gathering of our defenders there.”
Two lamps had been placed in the center of the terrace, and round these the little garrison were grouped, some sitting on boxes, others lying on mats, almost all smoking. Bathurst was greeted heartily by the Major and Wilson as soon as he was recognized.
“I am awfully glad to see you back,” Wilson said, shaking him warmly by the hand. “I wish I could have gone with you. Two together does not seem so bad, but I should not like to start out by myself as you did.”
There was a hearty cordiality in the young fellow's voice that was very pleasant to Bathurst.
“We have all our gifts, as Hawkeye used to say, as I have no doubt you remember, Wilson. Such gifts as I have lay in the way of solitary work, I fancy.”
“Now, light a cheroot, Bathurst,” the Major said, “and drink off this tumbler of brandy and soda, and then let us hear your story.”
“The story is simple enough, Major. I got through without difficulty. The sentries are some distance apart round the garden wall. As soon as I discovered by the sound of their footsteps where they were, it was easy enough to get through them. Then I made a longish detour, and came down on the lines from the other side. There was no occasion for concealment then. Numbers of the country people had come in, and were gathered round the Sepoys' fires, and I was able to move about amongst them, and listen to the conversation without the smallest hindrance.