Mrs. Fisher had come ashore from the "_B.A._", but her nerves were so completely shaken that she intended to go down to Karachi very shortly. Miss Borsen was to accompany her. Both of them visited me occasionally, but always together, and I was longing for the day to come when Nicholson would give me permission to talk, because I had much to tell the little, sad, grey-eyed lady, and much, very much, to ask her. At last came the great day when I was allowed to sit out on the veranda and talk—just a little—as long as I did not raise my voice. By this time Mr. Scarlett was very nearly his old self, or, rather, his new self, once more; and Percy was so happy that we had to make the head boy kick him—half a dozen times a day—to stop him singing to himself. We now had crowds of visitors, from Commander Duckworth, Mr. Fisher (his shoulder nearly well), and Popple Opstein, down to Jaffa, clean and white and as impenetrable as ever. The one I wanted most was Miss Borsen, but she seldom came, and then only with Mrs. Fisher. As I recovered, so she seemed to shrink from coming near me, and I counted the days before she was to sail for Karachi in fear lest I should never have a chance of speaking to her alone. One evening, as Mr. Scarlett and I were sitting on the veranda, watching the last glow of the sunset on the Baluchistan mountains, Popple Opstein came bounding up the stairs and out to us. "We’ve just got the news!" he cried excitedly. "There’s going to be a great ’show’ here. The Indian Government is sending a whole brigade from Karachi, the Persian Government has ordered round the old _Persepolis_ with a lot of troops, the flagship’s on her way from Bombay, and we’re going to land a naval brigade—with guns. There’s to be a regular expedition into the mountains to punish those Afghans, and who d’you think is going in charge of the guns? Why, you, old chap, you! The skipper has just sent me along to tell you the great news. The Indian Government has asked for you. Just fancy that! It’s a reward for collaring that caravan. ’Nick’ says you’ll be as fit as ever by the time everything’s ready to start. I am so glad, old chap, and you bet I’ll find some excuse for coming along as well, even if it’s only to carry old Nick’s ’first-aid’ bag." "What a ripping show!" I said, tremendously pleased, and Mr. Scarlett came over to congratulate me, as pleased as I was. My chum fidgeted about, and although it was now too dark for me to see his face I knew that he had something else to tell me. "Out with it! What is it?" I asked. Smacking his knees, he burst out with: "I’ve done it! Old Martin, I’ve done it!" "Done what?"