"For the present, Miss Gerson, we'll drop this matter. I said a few minutes ago I intended shortly to--_know_. I hope I won't have to carry out that--threat." Jane was withdrawing one of the buds from the jar. At his last word, she dropped it with a little gasp. "Threat, General?" "I hope not. Truly I hope not. But, young woman----" She stooped, picked up the flower, and was setting it in his buttonhole before he could remonstrate. "This one was for you, General," she said, and the truce was sealed. That minute, Lady Crandall was wafted into the room on the breeze of her own staccato interruption. "What's this--what's this! Flirting with poor old George--pinning a rose on my revered husband when my back's turned? Brazen miss. I'm here to take you off to the gardens at once, where you can find somebody younger--and not near so dear--to captivate with your tricks. At once, now!" She had her arm through Jane's and was marching her off. An exchange of glances between the governor and Hildebrand's young diplomat of the dollar said that what had passed between them was a confidence. Jaimihr Khan announced Major Bishop to the general a short time later. The major, a rotund pink-faced man of forty, who had the appearance of being ever tubbed and groomed to the pink of parade perfection, saluted his superior informally, accepted a cigarette and crossed his plump legs in an easy chair near the general's desk. General Crandall folded his arms on his desk and went direct to his subject: "Major, you were here on the Rock seven years ago, you say?" "Here ten years, General. Regular rock scorpion--old-timer." "Do you happen to recall this chap Woodhouse whom I sent to you to report for duty in the signal tower to-day? Has transfer papers from Wady Halfa." "Haven't met him yet, though Captain Carson tells me he reported at my office a little more than an hour ago--see him after parade. Woodhouse--Woodhouse----" The major propped his chin on his fingers in thought. "His papers--army record and all that--say he was here on the Rock for three months in the spring of nineteen-seven," General Crandall urged, to refresh the other's memory. Major Bishop stroked his round cheeks, tugged at one ear, but found recollection difficult. "When I see the chap--so many coming and going, you know. Three months--bless me! That's a thin slice out of ten years." "Major, I'm going to take you into my confidence," the senior officer began; then he related the incident of Capper's visit and repeated the charge he had made. Bishop sat aghast at the word "spy." "Woodhouse will be here to tea this afternoon," continued Crandall. "While you and I ask him a few leading questions, I'll have Jaimihr, my Indian, search his room in barracks. I trust Jaimihr implicitly, and he can do the job smoothly. Now, Bishop, what do you remember about nineteen-seven--something we can lead up to in conversation, you know?"