"And what part of that is the name of his mother's father?" I asked, for the Subedar-Major's rapid utterance of the name conveyed nothing of familiar English or Scottish names to my mind. "Jan Rah-bin-Ras el-Isan," replied Mir Daoud Khan; "that was her father's name, Sahib." "Say it again, slowly." "Jan Rah-bin-Ras el-Isan." "I have it! Yes, but _what_?--John Robin Ross-Ellison? Good God! But _I_ knew a John Robin Ross-Ellison when _I_ was a Captain. He was Colonel of the Corps of which I was Adjutant, in fact--the Gungapur Volunteer Rifles.... By Jove! That explains a lot. _John Robin Ross-Ellison_!" I was too incredulous to be astounded. It _could_ not be. "_Han_[4] Sahib, _bé shak_![5] Jan Rah-bin-Ras el-Isan Ilderim Dost Mahommed Mir Hafiz Ullah Khan was his name. And his mother called him Jan Rah-bin-Ras el-Isan and his father, Mir Hafiz Ullah Khan, called him Ilderim Dost Mahommed." [4] Yes. [5] Without doubt. "H'm! A Scotch Pathan, brought up by an Australian girl in India, would be a rare bird--and of rare possibilities naturally," I murmured, while my mind worked quickly backward. "My brother was unlike us in some things, Sahib. He was fond of the _sharab_ called '_Whisky_' and of dogs; he drank smoke from the cheroot after the fashion of the Sahib-log and not from the hookah nor the _bidi_;[6] he wore boots; he struck with the clenched fist when angered; and never did he squat down upon his heels nor sit cross-legged upon the ground. Yet he was true Pathan in many ways during his life, and he died as a Pathan should, concerning his honour (and a woman). Yea--and in his last fight, ere he was hanged, he killed more men with his long Khyber knife, single-handed against a mob, than ever did lone man before with cold steel in fair fight." [6] Native cigarette. Then it was so. And the Subedar-Major was John Robin Ross-Ellison's brother!