"The general's compliments, sir," said the orderly, saluting, "and will you kindly step over to his tent for a minute or two?"
"Immediately," said Captain Daly. "Orders for to-morrow, I suppose," he added to Kennedy, as he got up to go.
When he entered General Barnard's tent, the general handed him a letter, saying—
"What do you make of that, Daly?"
Daly took the letter, and read, in a sloping angular hand, as follows—
"Dear General Barnard—
"My father is safe. How thankful I am! And I know you will be glad too. Yesterday I received the enclosed note from him; you see it is written on the back of a torn label. He is in Delhi, but does not say where; I suppose he was afraid to write too much in case the chit fell into the hands of the mutineers. The man who brought it knows nothing; perhaps it is that he knows but will not tell. Will you try to find out where my dear father is? Some good friend must be hiding him. I know you have spies in the city, and I should be so happy if you could find out something more about him, and whether he is well, and many, many other things. Do help me, there's a good friend.
"Yours sincerely,
"Mary Craddock.
"P.S.—Perhaps that young Guide who saved me from the horrid men would go into the city. He would do anything for me, I know."
"Just like a girl," said Daly, handing the letter back.
"Now that's not fair," said the kindly old general. "Wait till you have daughters of your own, Daly. It is good news that Craddock is still alive; his wife, poor woman, was killed as she was escaping. He and I are old friends. D'you know him?"
"No. But the idea is impossible, of course. Without more information it would be like looking for a needle in a bottle of hay. Besides, he's in hiding; no one would have the ghost of a chance of finding him."
"One of his servants may be faithful, and keeping him concealed."