"Yesterday a young private died, who had but just passed the recruit stage, and had been only once or twice on parade. You might take his name. It is most unlikely that any of the white officers will notice that your face is a fresh one and, if they did ask the question, the native officer would give that name. The English officer would not be at all likely to notice that this was the name of a man who had died. Deaths are not uncommon and, as the regiment is just moving, the matter would receive no attention. The book of this man would be handed to you, and it would all seem regular."
"That is a splendid idea, Robah. Which officer do you think I had better speak to?"
"I should speak to Risaldar Gholam Singh. He was the chief native officer in your father's wing of the regiment. If he consents, he would order all the native officers under him to hold their tongues and, as you are a favourite with them all, your secret would be kept."
"It is a grand idea, and I certainly don't see why it should not work out properly."
"I have no doubt that the risaldar major will do all he can for you."
"Do you think so, Robah?"
"I am sure he will. He was very much attached to your father, and felt his loss as much as anyone. Indeed, I think that every one of the native officers will do all he can for you."
"That would make it very easy for me," Lisle said. "Till you suggested it, the idea of going as a soldier never occurred to me but, with their assistance, it will not be difficult."
"Shall I go and fetch the risaldar here, sahib?"
"Do so. I shall be on thorns until I see him."