Wargrave entered the big, colour-washed room. The Colonel was seated at his desk, frowning at a paper before him, and did not look up. Major Hepburn was standing behind his chair and glanced commiseratingly at the subaltern.

Frank stood to attention and saluted.

"Good morning, sir," he said. "You wanted to see me?"

Colonel Trevor did not reply, but turning slightly in his chair, said:

"Major Hepburn, call in the adjutant, please."

As the Second in Command went out on the verandah and summoned Raymond, Wargrave's heart misgave him. He had no idea of what the matter was; but the Colonel's manner and the presence of the Second in Command were ominous signs. He wondered what crime he was going to be charged with.

"Shut the doors, Raymond," said the Commanding Officer curtly, as the adjutant entered. The latter did so and sat down at his writing-table, glancing anxiously at his friend.

Colonel Trevor's lips were twitching nervously; and he seemed to experience a difficulty in finding his voice. At last he took up a paper from his desk and said:

"Mr. Wargrave, this is a telegram just received from Western Army Head Quarters. It says 'Lieutenant Wargrave is appointed to No. 12 Battalion, Frontier Military Police. Direct him to proceed forthwith to report to O.C. Detachment, Ranga Duar, Eastern Bengal.'"

CHAPTER V

SENTENCE OF EXILE

At the words of the telegram Raymond started and Frank stared in bewilderment at the Colonel.

"But I never asked for the Military Police, sir," he exclaimed. "I----"

The Colonel licked his dry lips and, working himself up into a pa.s.sion, shouted:

"No, you didn't. But I did. I applied for you to be sent to it. I asked for you to be transferred from this station. You can ask yourself the reason why. I will not tolerate conduct such as yours, sir. I will not have an officer like you under my command."

Frank flushed deeply.

"I beg your pardon, sir. I don't understand. I really don't know what I've done. I should----"

But the Colonel burst in furiously:

"He says he doesn't know what he's done, Major Hepburn. Listen to that!

He does not know what he's done"; and the speaker pounded on the desk with his clenched fist, working himself up into a rage, as a weak man will do when he has to carry out an unpleasant task.

"But, sir, surely I have a right----," began Wargrave, clenching his hands until the nails were almost driven into his palms in an effort to keep his temper.

"I cannot argue the question with you, Wargrave," said the Colonel loftily. "You have got your orders. Headquarters approve of my action. I have discussed the matter with my Second in Command, and he agrees with me. You can go. Raymond, make out the necessary warrants for Mr.

Wargrave's journey and give him an advance of a month's pay. He will leave to-morrow. Tell the Quartermaster to make the necessary arrangements."

Frank bit his lip. His years of discipline and the respect for authority engrained in him since his entrance to Sandhurst kept the mutinous words back. He saluted punctiliously and, turning about smartly walked out of the Orderly Room. In the glaring sunshine he strode out of the compound and down the white, dusty road to his bungalow, his brain in a whirl, blind to everything, seeing neither the sepoys saluting him nor his _syce_ hurrying after him and dragging the pony by the bridle.

When he reached his house he entered the sitting-room and dropped into a chair. His "boy" approached salaaming and asked if he should go to the Mess to order the Sahib's breakfast to be got ready. Wargrave waved him away impatiently.

He sat staring unseeingly at the wall. He could not think coherently. He felt dazed. His bewildered brain seemed to be revolving endlessly round the thought of the telegram from Headquarters and the Colonel's words "I will not have an officer like you under my command." What was the meaning of it all? What had he done? A pang shot through him at the sudden remembrance of Colonel Trevor's a.s.sertion that Major Hepburn agreed with him. Frank held the Second in Command in high respect, for he knew him to be an exceptionally good soldier and a gentleman in every sense of the word. Had he so disgraced himself then that Hepburn considered the Colonel's action justified? But how?

He shifted uneasily in his chair and his eyes fell on Mrs. Norton's portrait. At the sight of it his Company Commander's advice to him about her and Mrs. Trevor's spiteful remarks flashed across his mind. Could Violet be mixed up in all this? Was his friendship with her perhaps the cause of the trouble? He dismissed the idea at once. There was nothing to be ashamed of in their relations.

A figure darkened the doorway. It was Raymond. Wargrave sprang up and rushed to him.

"What in Heaven's name is it all about, Ray?" he cried. "Is the Colonel mad?"

The adjutant took off his helmet and flung it on the table.

"Well, tell me. What the devil have I done?" said his friend impatiently.

Raymond tried to speak but failed.

"Go on, man. What is it?" cried Wargrave, seizing his arm.

The adjutant burst out:

"It's a d.a.m.ned shame, old man. I'm sorry."

"But what is it? What is it, I say?" cried Wargrave, shaking him.

The adjutant nodded his head towards the big photograph on the writing-table.

"It's Mrs. Norton," he said.

"Mrs. Norton?" echoed his friend. "What the--what's she got to do with it?"

Raymond threw himself into a chair.

"Someone's been making mischief. The C.O.'s been told that there might be a scandal so he's got scared lest trouble should come to him."

Frank stared blankly at the speaker, then suddenly turned and walked out of the bungalow. The pony was standing huddled into the patch of shade at the side of the house, the _syce_ squatting on the ground at its head and holding the reins. Wargrave sprang into the saddle and galloped out of the compound. Raymond ran to the verandah and saw him thundering down the sandy road that led to the residency.

Arrived at the big white building Frank pulled up his panting pony on its haunches and dismounting threw the reins over its head and left it unattended.

Walking to the hall door he cried:

"_Koi hai_?"

A drowsy _chupra.s.si_ at the back of the hall sprang up and hurried to receive him.

"_Memsahib hai_? (Is the mistress in?)"

"_Hai, sahib_. (Yes, sir)" said the servant salaaming.

Wargrave was free of the house and, taking off his hat, went into the cool hall and walked up the great staircase. He entered the drawing-room. After the blinding glare outside the closely-shuttered apartment seemed so dark that at first it was difficult for him to see if it were tenanted or not. But it was empty; and he paced the floor impatiently, frowning in chaotic thought.