“He hasn’t—­officially speaking,” said Toby.  He was watching her steadily.  “Do you know, Miss Eversley,” he said, “I think I wouldn’t mention your discovery to any one else?”

“I am not going to,” she said.

“No?  Then why did you tell me?” he asked, with a tinge of rude suspicion in his voice.

Averil looked him suddenly and steadily in the face.  It was a very innocent face that Toby Carey presented to a serenely credulous world.

“Because,” said Averil slowly, “he told me to tell you alone.  ’Tell Toby Carey only,’ he said, ‘to watch when the beasts go down to drink.’  They were his last words.”

“Good!” said Toby unconcernedly.  “Then he knew you recognized him?”

“Yes,” Averil said; “he knew.”  She smiled faintly as she said it.  “He told me he was in no danger,” she added.

“Is he a friend of yours?” asked Toby sharply.

“Yes,” said Averil, with pride.

“I’m sorry to hear it,” said Toby bluntly.

“Why?” she asked, with a swift flash of anger.

“Why?” he echoed vehemently.  “Ask your brother-in-law, ask Seddon, ask any one!  The man is a fiend!”

Averil sprang to her feet in sudden fury.

“How dare you!” she cried passionately.  “He is a king!”

Toby stared for a moment, then grew calm.  “We are not talking about the same man, Miss Eversley,” he said shortly.  “The man I know is a fiend among fiends.  The man you know is, no doubt—­different.”

But Averil swept from the club-room without a word.  She was very angry with Toby Carey.

VII

THE REAL COLONEL CARLYON

Averil rode back to her brother-in-law’s bungalow, vexed with herself, weary at heart, troubled.  She had arrived at the station among the mountains on the Frontier two months before, and had spent a very happy time there with the sister whom she had not seen for years.  The ladies of the station numbered a very scanty minority, but there was no lack of gaiety and merriment on that account.

That the hills beyond the Great Frontier were peopled by tribes in a seething state of discontent was a matter known, but little recked of, by the majority of the community.  Officers went their several ways, fully awake to threatening rumours, but counting them of small importance.  They went to their sport; to their polo, their racing, their gymkhanas, with light hearts and in perfect security.  They lay down in the dread shadow of a mighty Empire and slept secure in the very jaws of danger.

The fierce and fanatical hatred that raged over the Frontier was less than nothing to most of them.  The power that sheltered them was wholly sufficient for their confidence.

The toughness of the good northern breed is of a quality untearable, made to endure in all climates, under all conditions.  Ordered to carry revolvers, they stuffed them unloaded into side-pockets, or left them in the hands of syces to bear behind them.