The poor colonel was too plainly fretting himself ill about it; he went pottering about forlornly, advertising, searching, and seeing people, but all, of course, to no purpose; and it told upon him.  He was more like a man whose only son and heir had been stolen than an Anglo-Indian officer who had lost a poodle.  I had to affect the liveliest interest in all his inquiries and expeditions, and to listen to and echo the most extravagant eulogies of the departed; and the wear and tear of so much duplicity made me at last almost as ill as the colonel himself.

I could not help seeing that Lilian was not nearly so much impressed by my elaborate concern as her relatives, and sometimes I detected an incredulous look in her frank brown eyes that made me very uneasy.  Little by little, a rift widened between us, until at last in despair I determined to know the worst before the time came when it would be hopeless to speak at all.  I chose a Sunday evening as we were walking across the green from church in the golden dusk, and then I ventured to speak to her of my love.  She heard me to the end, and was evidently very much agitated.  At last she murmured that it could not be, unless—­no, it never could be now.

“Unless, what?” I asked.  “Lilian—­Miss Roseblade, something has come between us lately; you will tell me what that something is, won’t you?”

“Do you want to know really?” she said, looking up at me through her tears.  “Then I’ll tell you; it—­it’s Bingo!”

I started back overwhelmed.  Did she know all?  If not, how much did she suspect?  I must find out that at once.  “What about Bingo?” I managed to pronounce, with a dry tongue.

“You never l-loved him when he was here,” she sobbed; “you know you didn’t!”

I was relieved to find it was no worse than this.

“No,” I said, candidly; “I did not love Bingo.  Bingo didn’t love me, Lilian; he was always looking out for a chance of nipping me somewhere.  Surely you won’t quarrel with me for that!”

“Not for that,” she said; “only, why do you pretend to be so fond of him now, and so anxious to get him back again?  Uncle John believes you, but I don’t.  I can see quite well that you wouldn’t be glad to find him.  You could find him easily if you wanted to!”

“What do you mean, Lilian?” I said, hoarsely. “How could I find him?” Again I feared the worst.

“You’re in a government office,” cried Lilian, “and if you only chose, you could easily g-get g-government to find Bingo!  What’s the use of government if it can’t do that?  Mr. Travers would have found him long ago if I’d asked him!”

Lilian had never been so childishly unreasonable as this before, and yet I loved her more madly than ever; but I did not like this allusion to Travers, a rising barrister, who lived with his sister in a pretty cottage near the station, and had shown symptoms of being attracted by Lilian.