“It was she who made the whole thing possible, sir.”
“The very deuce it was!” It began to be evident that Byng was not a ladies' man!
“This is Mr. McClean, sir—Rosemary's father. He helped her put the whole scheme through.”
Byng nodded to the missionary and looked back at Rosemary McClean—then from her to Cunningham again.
“Hu-rrrr-umph! Christian names already! More 'gratulations, eh?”
Rosemary's head and shoulders disappeared and Cunningham looked foolish.
“Well! Send Mahommed Gunga for the horses. Ride over there to where you see General Evans's column and tell him the whole story. Take a small escort and the treasure with you. And—ah—er—lemme see—take this carriage, too. Oh, by the bye—you'd better ask General Evans to make some arrangements for Miss McClean. Leave her over there with the treasure. I want you back with my brigade, and I want you to be some sort of use. Can't have love-making with the brigade, Mr. Cunningham!”
The Brigadier rode off with a very perfunctory salute.
“Isn't he a rather curmudgeony sort of officer?” asked Rosemary the moment that his back was turned.
“Oh, no!” laughed Cunningham. “That's Byng-bahadur's little way, that's all. He's quite likely to insist on being best man or something of that sort when the show's all over! Wait here while I fetch the escort.”