He hesitated.  “It’s a difficult thing to explain to you,” he said reluctantly.  “You see, the fellow who took charge of you had to be prepared for—­well—­anything.  You know what devils those tribesmen are.  There was to be no chance of your falling into their hands.  It didn’t mean just fighting for you, you understand.  We would all have done that to the last drop of our blood.  But—­your father—­was forced to ask of us—­something more.  And only Ratcliffe would undertake it.  He’s a queer chap.  I used to think him a rotter till I saw him fight, and then I had to change my mind.  That was, I believe, the main reason why General Roscoe selected him as your protector.  He knew he could trust the fellow’s nerve.  The rest of us were like women compared to Nick.”

He paused.  Muriel’s eyes had not flinched from his.  She heard his explanation as one not vitally concerned.

“Have I made myself intelligible?” he asked, as she did not speak.

“Do you mean I was to be shot if things went wrong?” she returned, in her deep, quiet voice.

He nodded.  “It must have been that.  Your father saw it in that light, and so did we.  Of course you are bound to see it too.  But we stuck at it—­Marshall and I. There was only Nick left, and he volunteered.”

“Only Nick left!” she repeated slowly.  “Nick would stick at nothing, Captain Grange.”

“I honestly don’t think he would,” said Grange.  “Still, you know, he’s awfully plucky.  He would have gone any length to save you first.”

She drew back with a sudden shrinking of her whole body.  “Oh, I know, I know!” she said.  “I sometimes think there is a devil in Nick.”

She turned aside, bending once more over her father’s things, putting them together with unsteady fingers.  So this was the answer to the riddle—­the secret of his choice for her!  She understood it all now.

After a short pause, she spoke again more calmly.  “Did Nick ever speak to you about me?”

“Never,” said Grange.

“Then please, Captain Grange”—­she stood up again and faced him—­“never speak to me again about him.  I—­want to forget him.”

Very young and slight she looked standing there, and again he felt his heart stir within him with an urgent pity.  Vague rumours he had heard of those few weeks at Simla during which her name and Nick Ratcliffe’s had been coupled together, but he had never definitely known what had taken place.  Had Nick been good to her, he wondered for the first time?  How was it that the bare mention of him was unendurable to her?  What had he done that she should shudder with horror when she remembered him, and should seek thus with loathing to thrust him out of her life?

Involuntarily the man’s hands clenched and his blood quickened.  Had the General’s trust been misplaced?  Was Nick a blackguard?

Finding her eyes still upon him, he made her a slight bow that was wholly free from gallantry.