“2 A.M.
“Symptoms less satisfactory. If you could ride over, it might be as well. I don’t say it is necessary, but it would please Mrs Keeling.
J. Tarleton.”
“How dare you give me this, when it is meant for the Colonel Sahib?” demanded Sir Dugald.
“I must have given the wrong chit, sahib,” and a third note was produced, this time addressed unmistakably to Sir Dugald.
“Dear Haigh,—I am not at all satisfied about Mrs Keeling, and she knows it, but is most anxious that her husband’s mind should not be disturbed. I have had to give her my word of honour that if a battle is imminent he shall hear nothing until it is quite over, and the only way of managing this that I can see is to ask you to take charge of the second chit I have given Reheem Khaun, and hand it to Keeling at the proper time. Lady Haigh has been my right hand, and has stood the strain well. She is now resting for an hour or two.
J. Tarleton.”
“If the Karnal (Colonel) Sahib found that the dust of his feet had hidden the chit from him, he would be very angry,” murmured the apologetic voice of Rahim Khan, “but seeing it is Haigh Sahib who does it, his wrath will be appeased.”
“I see. You want to shift the responsibility from your shoulders to mine. Well, be off!” said Sir Dugald, with an uneasy laugh. He could scarcely meet Colonel Keeling’s eye when he hurried down to him a minute or two later, brimful of his good news, and anxious to be assured that Lady Haigh also was going on well; and he was grateful to Gobind Chand for choosing this juncture to launch a detachment of his men at the steepest, and therefore least defended, side of the hill.
“Now is our time!” cried Colonel Keeling, hurrying away. “You can fire the signal-shot, Haigh.”