"Ah!" said Walters; "I thought I recognized the stamp. Foster told me he lived a few miles off, but I'll have to move on if he comes in here."
"Why?" Mrs. Chudleigh asked in well-simulated surprise, though she saw the opportunity she had been waiting for was now offered her.
"I knew his son and nephew; served with them in India for a time," Walters answered with some embarrassment. "That's why Foster warned me to keep out of Challoner's way. He seemed to think it would be considerate."
Challoner passed on, and Mrs. Chudleigh fixed her eyes on Walters. "I see. You must have taken part in a certain unfortunate affair on the frontier in which the hill men get the best of it."
The blood crept into Walters' face, but he answered simply: "I did. It is not a subject one talks about."
"That's natural; one can understand the feelings of the mess, but the thing isn't quite a secret, and I daresay you break through your reserve now and then. Surely you don't refuse your confidence to your friends?"
Her manner was reproachful, as though she felt hurt because he could not trust her, and he looked confused.
"I couldn't doubt that anything I said would be safe with you, but it's a painful subject. Besides, you obviously know something about the matter."
"I do, but not much. I knew Bertram Challoner and have met Richard Blake. Then at one time I heard a good deal about the frontier and that makes me curious." She paused, and gave him a look he could not resist. "I want to know what really happened; won't you tell me? You can rely upon my treating it in the strictest confidence."
Walters felt reluctant, but he was grateful to her, and flattered by her preference. She was a handsome woman and much sought after, but she had often devoted an hour to enlivening his forced idleness when there were more exciting occupations open to her.