“Well, Tommy,” he said, “isn’t it time to turn in?”

Tommy sat up.  “Oh, I suppose so.  Infernally hot, isn’t it?  I’ve been reading Stella’s letter.”

Monck lodged his shoulder against the window-frame.  “I hope she is all right,” he said formally.

His voice sounded pre-occupied.  It did not convey to Tommy the idea that he was greatly interested in his reply.

He answered with something of an effort.  “I believe she is.  She doesn’t really say.  I wish they had been content to stay at Bhulwana.  I could have got leave to go over and see her there.”

“Where exactly are they now?” asked Monck.

Tommy explained to the best of his ability.  “Srinagar seems their nearest point of civilization.  They are camping in the wilderness, but they will have to move before long.  Dacre’s leave will be up, and they must allow time to get back.  Stella talks as if they are fixed there for ever and ever.”

“She is enjoying it then?” Monck’s voice still sounded as if he were thinking of something else.

Tommy made grudging reply.  “I suppose she is, after a fashion.  I’m pretty sure of one thing.”  He spoke with abrupt force.  “She’d enjoy it a deal more if I were with her instead of Dacre.”

Monck laughed, a curt, dry laugh.  “Jealous, eh?”

“No, I’m not such a fool.”  The boy spoke recklessly.  “But I know—­I can’t help knowing—­that she doesn’t care twopence about the man.  What woman with any brains could?”

“There’s no accounting for women’s tastes or actions at any time,” said Monck.  “She liked him well enough to marry him.”

Tommy made an indignant sound.  “She was in a mood to marry any one.  She’d probably have married you if you’d asked her.”

Monck made an abrupt movement as if he had lost his balance, but he returned to his former position immediately.  “Think so?” he said in a voice that sounded very ironical.  “Then possibly she has had a lucky escape.  I might have been moved to ask her if she had remained free much longer.”

“I wish to Heaven you had!” said Tommy bluntly.

And again Monck uttered his short, sardonic laugh.  “Thank you, Tommy,” he said.

There fell a silence between them, and a hot draught eddied up through the parched compound and rattled the scorched twigs of the creeping rose on the verandah with a desolate sound, as if skeleton hands were feeling along the trellis-work.  Tommy suppressed a shudder and got to his feet.

In the same moment Monck spoke again, deliberately, emotionlessly, with a hint of grimness.  “By the way, Tommy, I’ve a piece of news for you.  That letter I had from my brother this, evening contained news of an urgent business matter which only I can deal with.  It has come at a rather unfortunate moment as Barnes, the policeman, brought some disturbing information this evening from Khanmulla and the Chief wanted to make use of me in that quarter.  They are sending a Mission to make investigations and they wanted me to go in charge of it.”