“I am employed by a blundering Government to do a certain task which bigger men shirk.  Carlyon of the Frontier, they say, will stick at no dirty job.  I undertake the task.  I lay my plans—­subtle plans which you, with your blind British generosity, would neither understand nor approve.  I proceed to carry them out.  I am within sight of the end and success, when an idiotic fool of a boy, who is not so much as a combatant himself, blunders into the business and throws the whole scheme out of gear.  He assumes the leadership of a dozen stranded Goorkhas, and instead of bringing them back he drags them forward into an impossible position, and then expects a rescue.

“I meanwhile have my own work to do.  I am responsible to the Government for the lives of my men.  I cannot expend them on other than Government work.

“On one side of the scale is this same Government and the plans made in its interest; on the other the life of a boy, strategically speaking, worth nothing, and the lives of half-a-score of fighting men, already accounted a loss.  It may astonish you to know that the Government turned the scale.  Those who had incurred the penalty of rashness were left to pay it.  That, Miss Eversley, is all I have to say.  You will be good enough to remember that I have said it at your request and not in my own defence.”

He ceased to speak as abruptly as he had begun.  He was standing at his full height, and, tall though she was, Averil felt unaccountably small and insignificant before him.  Curtly, almost rudely, as he had spoken, she admired him immensely for the stern code of honour he professed.

She did not utter a word for several seconds.  He had impressed her very strongly.  She stayed to weigh his words in the balance of her own judgment.

“It is a man’s point of view,” she said slowly at last, “not a woman’s.”

“Even so,” said Carlyon, dropping back suddenly to his former attitude.

She looked at him very earnestly, her brows drawn together.

“You have not told me about the Secret Service man,” she said at length.  “You sent him, did you not, on the forlorn chance of saving Dick?”

Carlyon shook his head in a grim disclaimer.

“Derrick’s information was the first I heard of the individual,” he said.  “I was unaware of the existence of a Secret Service agent within a radius of fifty miles.  I believe General Harford encourages the breed.  I do the precise opposite.  I have no faith in professional spies in that part of the world.  Russian territory is too near, and Russian gold too tempting.”

Averil’s face fell.  “Colonel Carlyon,” she said, in a very small voice, “forgive me, but—­but—­you cannot be so hard as you sound.  You are fond of Dick, surely?”

“Yes,” he said deliberately.  “I am fond of you both, if I may be permitted to say so.”

Averil coloured a little.  “Thank you,” she said.  “I shall try presently to make him understand.”