“Oh, poor old girl!” he said impulsively, and took the hands into his own.  “I say, ought I to be in here?  Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

She smiled at him wanly.  “I believe I am.  Major Ralston left a soothing draught, but I wouldn’t take it, in case—­” she broke off.  “Peter is on guard as well as Ayah, and he has promised to call me if—­if—­” Again she stopped.  “I don’t think Ayah is much good,” she resumed.  “She was nearly frightened out of her senses last night.  She seems to think there is something—­supernatural about it.  But Peter—­Peter is a tower of strength.  I trust him implicitly.”

“Yes, he’s a good chap,” said Tommy.  “I’m glad you’ve got him anyway.  I wish I could be more of a help to you.”

She leaned forward and kissed him.  “You are very dear to me, Tommy.  I don’t know what I should do without you and Bernard.”

“Where is the worthy padre?” asked Tommy.

“He may be working in his room.  He is certainly not far away.  He never is nowadays.”

“I’ll go and find him,” said Tommy.  “But look here, dear!  Have that draught of Ralston’s and lie down!  Just to please me!”

She began to refuse, but Tommy could be very persuasive when he chose, and he chose on this occasion.  Finally, with reluctance she yielded, since, as he pointed out, she needed all the strength she could muster.

He tucked her up with motherly care, feeling that he had accomplished something worth doing, and then, seeing that exhaustion would do the rest, he left her and went softly forth in search of Bernard.

The latter, however, was not in the bungalow, and since it was growing late Tommy had a hurried bath and dressed for parade.  He was bolting a hasty tiffin in the dining-room when a quiet step on the verandah warned him of Bernard’s approach, and in a moment or two the big man entered, a pipe in his mouth and a book under his arm.

“Hullo, Tommy!” he said with his genial smile.  “So you haven’t been murdered this time.  I congratulate you.”

“Thanks!” said Tommy.

“I congratulate myself also,” said Bernard, patting his shoulder by way of greeting.  “If it weren’t against my principles, I should have been very worried about you, my lad.  For I couldn’t get away to look for you.”

“Of course not,” said Tommy.  “And I was safe enough.  I’ve been over to Khanmulla.  Everard made me spend the night, and we rode back this morning.”

“Everard!  He isn’t here?” Bernard looked round sharply.

“No,” said Tommy bluntly.  “But he ought to be.  He went back again.  He is wanted for that trial business.  I say, things are pretty rotten here, aren’t they?  Is the little kid past hope?”

“I am afraid so.”  Bernard spoke very gravely.  His kindly face was more sombre than Tommy had ever seen it.

“But can nothing be done?” the boy urged.  “It’ll break Stella’s heart to lose him.”