Mrs. Chudleigh appeared to acquiesce and said nothing for some minutes. She was sorry that Challoner had not proved more amenable, since his stubbornness forced her into a distasteful line of action, but she could not spare him when her lover's future was at stake.
"After all," she said, "a soldier's official record is sometimes as little to be trusted as you think his friends' estimate of him ought to be. I have an instance in view; two men I know took part in an action on the Indian frontier, and one gained a reputation for courage, and the other obloquy. As it happened, neither was deserved."
"On the Indian frontier?" Challoner glanced at her sharply.
"Yes; some time since. A night attack was made upon a hill which formed the key to the position of a small British force. An order to retreat was wrongly given."
"Ah!" said Challoner; "I have good reason to remember that affair. May I ask what you know about it?"
"I'm convinced I know the truth, which has been concealed."
Challoner started and his face grew eager. "Then your knowledge is of great importance and I must beg you to share it with me. It may clear a man I have a strong affection for."
"At the cost of involving another."
"I suppose that follows."
"Then you do not believe it wiser to let a painful matter which is already almost forgotten rest? You would rake it up, even if it brought trouble upon innocent people?"