The reason of the existence of this outpost and its garrison was the guarding of the duars, or passes, through the Himalayas against raiders from Bhutan, that little-known independent State lying between Tibet and the Bengal border.  Its frontier was only two miles from, and a few thousand feet above, Ranga Duar.

“You are just in time for our one yearly burst of gaiety, Wargrave,” said the Commandant, “the visit of the Deb Zimpun.”

“What on earth is that, sir?” asked the subaltern.

“Sounds like a new disease, doesn’t it?” said Burke laughing.  “But it isn’t.  The Deb Zimpun is a gintleman av high degree, the Heridithary Cup Bearer to the Deb Raja.”

“To the what?” demanded the bewildered Frank.

Major Hunt smiled.

“Bhutan is supposed to be ruled by a temporal monarch called the Deb Raja and also by a spiritual one, known in India as the Durma Raja.  In reality it is under the sway of the most powerful of the several great feudal lords of the land, the Tongsa Penlop or Chief of Tongsa, whom we regard as the Maharajah of Bhutan.  He has placed himself, as far only as the foreign relations of the country go, under the suzerainty of the Government of India; and in return we grant him a subsidy of a lakh of rupees a year.  It used to be fifty thousand, but the sum was doubled years ago.  To get the money one of the State Council comes every year.  He is an official called the Deb Zimpun.”

“Faith! he’s a rum old beggar, Wargrave,” broke in Burke.  “Looks like the Pope av Rome in his thriple crown, for he wears a high gold-edged cap and a flowing red robe av Chinese silk, out av which sticks a pair av hairy bare legs.”

“The Political Officer receives him in durbar; and we furnish a Guard of Honour.  The Colonel gives a dinner to him and us, and we have another spread in the Mess.  That reminds me.  I suppose Dermot will be going into the jungle soon to shoot for the pot, as the durbar is next week.  You’d better get him to take you.  You can have one of our elephants and provide for our larder.”

“Thanks very much, Major,” said the delighted subaltern.  “The Colonel promised to let me accompany him and lend me a rifle.”

When he went to his room that night the subaltern turned up the oil lamp that lighted it and before he undressed sat down before Violet’s photograph.  As he looked at it he thought affectionately and a little sadly of the lonely woman so far away from him now.  He pitied her for the isolation in which she lived, an isolation far completer than his own, for she had few friends, no intimates, and a husband worse than a stranger in his lack of understanding of her.  Surely it would be only right to take her from such a man, right to give her a fresh chance of finding the happiness that she had missed; for the warm-hearted, intelligent and artistic-natured woman would be far happier with him in this beautiful