The letter was written roughly in pencil on a large sheet of rough and discoloured paper:—

"To Lieutenant Robert Charteris, at Dera Gauleeb Khan or wherever he may be.

"MY DEAR CHARTERIS,—I am sorry to say that the fat's in the fire at last. This morning the Rajah invited us to go out with him to his garden-house, but did not send an elephant for us, as we expected. However, we rode to meet him, with a small escort. Honestly, I cannot tell whether he is to blame for what happened, or not, but at the beginning it certainly looked like an accident. There was a certain amount of confusion when we met on the way to the city gate, and the respective escorts found some difficulty in clearing a path through the crowds. Suddenly a wild fanatic of some sort—an Akaulee I should say—dashed at me from behind with a sword, and fairly knocked me off my horse. I have a cut on the head, but my hat turned the blade. There was a horrid tumult, and soldiers and people were pressed this way and that, forcing Cowper away from me. I got two or three more blows as I lay on the ground, but one of our horsemen dragged me to my feet. I saw that Sher Sing's hotties had turned tail and were in full retreat, but it did not occur to me he was leaving us to our fate until his horsemen charged back through the crowd and made straight for Cowper. He was cut down in an instant, and I saw them hacking at him before I could rally the escort. When we got through to him things looked pretty bad, for the horsemen withdrew only to come down on us afresh, and the crowd were siding with them, while all sorts of missiles began to rain from the roofs. Then old Sudda Sookhee turned up and threw himself into the breach—ordered the troops back, harangued the mob, and took us up on his own hotty. He thought it unsafe for us to go back to the Residency, in which I quite agreed with him, in view of the attitude of Sher Sing and his guards, so I decided that we should throw ourselves into the tomb of Rutton Sing outside the walls, and hold it till assistance arrived. Without Sudda Sookhee's support we could never have got through the gate, and as it was, they fired at us with matchlocks from the walls. He took us straight to the tomb, and then hurried back to see how things were going at the Residency. Before noon we were joined by the rest of our escort, who had been turned out of the fort without ceremony, but allowed to march through the city unmolested. The native apothecary has done his best for poor Cowper and me. My hurts are merely scratches, but he is badly cut about, though quite cheerful. I need not ask you to relieve us as soon as possible, as you will know that Rutton Sing's tomb is not a first-rate position for defence. I have sent a warm remonstrance to the Rajah, demanding that he shall visit us in person and express his regret for the outrage, but I repeat frankly that I do not understand his attitude. Still, you will see the importance of keeping a stiff upper lip. Cowper begs that Mrs Cowper may not be alarmed about him, as he expects (he says) to be up and about again before you turn up. We rely on you to arrive with all convenient speed. It is possible that the situation is more serious than appears.—Very sincerely yours,

RICHD. NISBET."

Gerrard read the letter through, turning the paper this way and that to find the carefully numbered additions written in the margin or crossing the sheet. Poor Nisbet! how thoroughly he must have been thrown off his balance before he would consent to send off a rough draft like this instead of making a fair copy—such was his first involuntary reflection. Then his mind awakened suddenly to a realisation of the perilous plight of the two men and their escort. Ratan Singh's tomb! it was the very tomb in the grove, within sight of the walls of Agpur, where he himself had purposed to make a hopeless stand over Rajah Partab Singh's dead body, in defence of Partab Singh's wife and son, and where Charteris had appeared in the nick of time to save him. The place could not be held, there was no hope of that, even if it were properly provisioned, and the letter was dated two days ago. If Sher Singh were indeed a traitor—and his conduct would need a good deal of explanation if it was to be ascribed to mere cowardice—Nisbet and Cowper's position was more than serious, it was desperate. And there sat Charteris, listening with knitted brows to the lucubrations of the witnesses in this dispute over stolen cattle, pulling them up sharply when their flights of imagination became more than usually daring, and apparently oblivious alike of the disappointed messenger squatting in the corner and of the men relying upon him outside Agpur. Gerrard's breath came faster, and he wondered whether he could frame a plausible excuse for getting out of the tent and starting immediately on his return journey to Habshiabad. If Charteris was at a loss what to do, Sadiq Ali and the Rani would joyfully send every fighting man they possessed to deal a blow at Sher Singh. Suddenly Charteris turned round.

"You are precious bored by all this, I can see," he said casually. "Never mind; it will soon be over now. Take a cigar," and as he held out the case, his fingers again met Gerrard's with that warning pressure. His friend accepted the cheroot, and resigned himself to further waiting. It was not for long. Charteris's brief summing-up was masterly, so incisive, so searching, so constantly punctuated with popular proverbs and familiar references to the domestic affairs of the litigants, that it drew applause from both sides. Then he pronounced judgment, and the winning side rent the air with their shouts, while the losing party threw dust on their heads and lamented that they had ever been born. They went off peacefully enough, however, and fraternised with their late opponents over a sheep sent out to them by Charteris, while the two Englishmen, alone at last, faced one another in the hot shade of the tent.

"Bob, I don't think you realise how bad it is," said Gerrard hurriedly. "They can't hold out in Ratan Singh's tomb if they are attacked with anything like vigour. We have lost too much time already."

"Steady, old boy. No harm done. There's no starting until just before sunset, unless you think sunstroke all round would improve the efficiency of the relieving force. We have all afternoon for making arrangements."

"But we have wasted a full hour when we might have been laying our plans."

"Plans are laid all right. Got 'em here," said Charteris, tapping his forehead. "What! you thought I was wholly engrossed in my family of perjurers? Purely mechanical, my boy—interest and interruptions and all. Brain working like clockwork at more than railroad speed the entire time. Everything cut and dried. Start to-night for Dera Galib to pick up my men. But those two poor chaps must have a letter to hearten them up at once. The kasid can move faster than we can, so we'll have him in and question him a little before writing. Must pay our Mr James the compliment of passing on the news, and enlightening him as to our intentions, too."

"Just tell me first what part you have given me. Am I to accompany you with such men as I have?"

"No, you are to ride back to Habshiabad hell-for-leather, and create a diversion by crossing the Ghara with every man you can lay your hands on. Even if I get to the city in time, I shall have to fight my way back through hostile country, so if you can draw off the army by an imposing demonstration in the other direction, it may save all our lives."

"Old boy, I did you an injustice," said Gerrard.

"Don't apologise, my boy—quite used to it. Knew I could depend on you, though."

The messenger, summoned into the tent, could do little more than confirm the contents of the letter, though he was able to add that of late the Agpuris had been urged by various fanatics to resist the impending rectification of frontier, and that much bad feeling had been displayed towards the Feringhees. He added that when the escort were turned out of the fort, rumour said that a conference was going on at the palace, in which the war party were making every effort to bring over Sher Singh completely to their side, assuring him that he had gone too far to retreat when he left the two wounded Englishmen to the tender mercies of his guards and the mob.

The hot hours of the afternoon were spent in issuing orders and in writing. A letter to Nisbet and Cowper, assuring them that immediate help was on its way, and adjuring them in no circumstances to surrender themselves to Sher Singh; a report addressed to James Antony, detailing the alarming news, and adding that Charteris was on the point of crossing the Tindar with a relieving force, and had requested support from Habshiabad; a formal invitation to Sadiq Ali to allow his troops to co-operate in the rescue of the Englishmen, and to Gerrard to accompany them; a proclamation to be made throughout Darwan, announcing the treachery of Sher Singh, and inviting suitable men to enlist for the purpose of punishing it; orders to the subordinate officials in various parts of the province to be on their guard against Agpuri emissaries, and to enrol and train any native Darwanis who applied to them; and—though these, indeed, were despatched first of all—directions to the troops Charteris intended to take with him to be ready to start at any hour. As the news of the preparations leaked out, deputations began to come in from villages and tribes to assure Charteris of their loyalty and entreat him to lead them against the perjured Sher Singh, and these had to be received, entertained by proxy, and dismissed, at the cost of much impatience and loss of precious time. But while Charteris was thus engaged, Gerrard and the Munshis prepared papers for his signature, and the writing work was all finished before Gerrard and his followers went down to the river on their return journey. Charteris could not even come down to see him off, much less accompany him across and ride a little way with him, as he had intended, but they promised themselves a speedy meeting before Agpur—perhaps even in the palace itself, if the Rani's prophecy was about to be fulfilled.

The men who paddled the mashaks were stimulated to unwonted exertion by the promise of large rewards, and the party, swimming their horses by the bridles, crossed in less time than Gerrard had dared to hope. A brief halt to arrange loads, inspect girths and snatch a mouthful of food, and Gerrard and his men were in the saddle, and riding steadily into the gathering darkness. The men would have ridden at top speed in their eagerness to carry the news and hasten the vengeance, but Gerrard held them back. They had a long way to go, and hard work to do, and the life of every horse, as well as of every trained man, might be of inestimable value in the days to come. When they had ridden for nearly three hours, he called another halt, that the horses might be rubbed down and have their mouths washed out with water, and the troopers refresh themselves hastily with fragments of chapati. The men were mounted again, and he was about to give the order to march, when a distant sound became audible—the sound of horses' hoofs in the direction from which they had come.

"One man—or at most two. Surely it is a messenger, sahib," said the
Granthi in command of the escort.

"We will wait to hear what news he brings. It may be that the Rajah has submitted already," said Gerrard, and was answered by a groan of dismay from his men. "Let two shots be fired at intervals," he went on, "that the messenger may know where to find us."

The well-known border signal proved effectual, and the horsemen—it was now clear that there were two of them—approached rapidly. Gerrard uttered an exclamation of astonishment as he saw by the moonlight that one of them was a European, and rode back to meet him.

"Bob!" he exclaimed, in utter surprise, as Charteris slipped from his exhausted horse. "What is it?"

"Bad news. No use going on."

"What! They are not dead?"

"Murdered—both of 'em. Tomb was shelled, but they held out. Then Sher Singh sent messengers to the escort—promised 'em double pay to join him—pair of gold bracelets to Nihal Singh. They accepted and went over—left Nisbet and Cowper all alone, except for a few faithful servants. Cowper was too badly wounded to get up, he was lying on his cot, and Nisbet sat beside him holding his hand. There was no hope of further resistance, and they told the servants to escape if they could. One of 'em hid, and brought the news to me just now. Sher Singh's men burst in, with old Sarfaraz Khan at their head, shouting all the wickedness he could lay his filthy old tongue to. Nisbet told him he might kill them, as they were only two to thousands, but that he might be sure thousands of English would come and destroy Sher Singh and his city."

"And they killed them?"

"Hacked 'em to pieces, and took their heads to Sher Singh."
Charteris's face twitched, and he turned away angrily.

"There's no possibility that the servant's tale is false, I suppose?"

"I wish to Heaven there were. But why should Sher Singh make things out worse when they were bad enough already? Besides, I questioned the fellow pretty sharply, and he was not to be shaken. So I started at once to catch you up."

"Thanks," said Gerrard absently. "That poor little woman, Bob! How will she ever stand it?"

"Doesn't bear thinking of," said Charteris brusquely. "Question is, what are we going to do?"

"Why, what can we do? Rescue their bodies, do you mean?"

"Not a bit of it. Look here, Hal; I've been thinking it out as I came along. Sher Singh has drawn the sword and thrown away the scabbard now—burnt his boats, in fact. He can't stop where he is and take his punishment quietly; he must call upon the Granthis generally to back him up. Remember, they wouldn't rise against us in cold blood, but now that he has plucked up courage to give them a lead they'll go. The servant tells me that they called upon the escort to join them in the name of God and the Guru, and the murderers were calling out Wa Guru! and Guru-ji ki Fatih! as they rushed in. They'll make a religious business of it, and every Granthi in Granthistan will join Sher Singh unless he is nipped in the bud."

"Well, but he is nearer Granthistan than we are. Who is going to nip him in the bud?"

"You and I, if you are game."

"Oh, I'm game to do anything that's feasible."

"Are you game to take a big risk? If Sher Singh is to be kept from overrunning Granthistan, he must be stopped at once. I believe that you and I can do it."

"But how? with merely the Habshiabadis and your troops?"

"Precisely. If we march on Agpur, they daren't leave the city undefended with us in their rear. They have no military genius to see that the only chance lies in snapping us up before we can unite, and straining every nerve to do it, and we can get together a large enough force to give a very good account of anything less than the whole Agpur army. If we find ourselves faced with that, and luck's against us, we shall probably go down, but we shall have done it more damage than Sher Singh can repair before he finds a British force in his country."

"Honestly, Bob, I don't know what to say. Your plan sounds reasonable enough, but you must see that it's subversive of every rule of military science."

"Hang military science! If we can confine Sher Singh within the bounds of his own state, prevent him from throwing down the gauntlet to British power by invading Granthistan, and make him so anxious about the safety of Agpur that we keep him there until we can get a siege train from Farishtabad to batter the walls about his ears, ain't it worth it?"

"I believe you, my boy! but can we do it? If we try and fail, it means ruin, utter and complete, for both of us."

"And if we try and succeed, it will save England and India a second
Granthi War."

"Right, Bob; I'll do it. Give us your fist, old boy."

Charteris drew a long breath as they shook hands. "I don't mind telling you that if you wouldn't come in, I had made up my mind to try it by myself," he said. "And then, Hal, you might well have talked about ruin utter and complete. But as it is, why, I am proud to serve under you, old boy, and if my Darwanis don't give a good account of themselves under your command, you may call me a Dutchman."

"Under my command? Nonsense, Bob! I am going to serve under you, of course. Why, you are the man on the spot, holding a commission from the Granthi Durbar, and obviously the proper person to punish its rebellious vassal. I am merely accompanying the troops of a friendly state as a matter of curiosity."

"My dear Hal, it's no end good of you, but I am perfectly content. You have always been top-sawyer, you know."

"And a precious mess I should have made of things more than once, if you had not been at hand. Why, Bob, I couldn't conscientiously take command in an affair like this. It's your idea; I should not have thought of it, and it isn't likely I should carry it out properly. You see your point and go straight at it through thick and thin, while I plot out a plan for getting there on the lines of the best commanders, with proper care for communications and supplies. But if you will give your orders, I'll carry them out or burst. If I don't agree with 'em, I promise you you shall hear about it."

"No doubt whatever about that. Well, Hal, so be it. Even if you don't agree, you'll obey orders, I know. Just a minute or two to worry out our immediate moves, then back I go. Got a light? Take a squint at this map of mine. I propose to cross the Tindar about Kardi, so as to threaten Agpur from the south-west, throw up such entrenchments as time allows, and wait there for you. You will cross the Ghara wherever you find most convenient—the Habshi with his local knowledge will advise you best there—remembering that if you can get far enough to the east to give the impression of threatening the city from another side, so much the better, but remembering also that unless you come up quickly, I may have the whole Agpur army launched against me."

"My dear Bob, you forget the distance I shall have to march. You will be annihilated before I can reach you."

"Not if I know you, or myself and my Darwanis. If I can hold the Agpuris in front, while you come up and deliver a flank attack, I will, but that circumstances must decide. We will keep open communications by means of kasids if we can, but it is quite possible we may have to act independently. At any rate, I will not leave Kardi alive without letting you know, and you won't let anything short of a signed message from me persuade you that I have abandoned it?"

"Trust me. But I wish we could both have made forced marches and met at a point on the Ranjitgarh side of Agpur."

"So do I. But if wishes were horses——! The meanest intelligence, even Sher Singh's, couldn't miss the propriety of attacking us in detail if we trailed our toy armies separately past him with the force we possess. Don't think I labour under any delusion as to our powers. We can't push Sher Singh back; we can only hold him back by fear for the city. We can't hope to conquer him, but we may make it impossible for him to move until a British brigade with battering guns arrives to eat him up."

"I see. Less glorious, but possibly quite as useful."

"Just so. And there's a private and personal advantage for us in being on this side of the city rather than the other. Our Mr James will readily acknowledge that while there was a chance of rescuing our poor fellows we were bound to cross into Agpur. But when he hears they are dead, I have a foreboding—I feel it in my bones—that he will instantly order us back. Of course I shall send him all particulars—my reasons for invading the country, our force, our anticipations of success, the exact reinforcement we need to finish the job in style, and you will do the same before leaving Habshiabad. But it is a good long way for the messengers to go, both in your case and mine, and it is also a good long way back, and the same address may not always find us. Therefore I trust that when we get our orders for retreat, we shall be so far into Agpur that it is impossible to obey. Even James Antony would allow a man a little discretion when to go forward is safety, and to go back would mean destruction."

"You old fox!" cried Gerrard. "I'll back you up, don't be afraid.
We'll put the telescope to the blind eye, and our careers may go hang!"

"That's the style. We shall have you a swaggering dare-devil yet, old boy. And now it's boot and saddle again. Good-bye, and come up in time."

"Good-bye. Take care of yourself, Bob."

Charteris laughed as he swung himself into the saddle. He and his orderly clattered off into the night, and the campaign of vengeance had begun.