“But this is pure superstition!” cried Lady Haigh. “And, after all, he is a soldier.” “Call it superstition if you like: I only speak of what I know, and I would not have spoken if you had not compelled me. And there are worse deaths than a soldier’s. One of the men I speak of was poisoned, one was murdered in Ethiopia, one was lost in the _Nuncomar_. That’s how it goes. What sort of man is young Ross?” “Very serious, I believe,” answered Lady Haigh. The word still had its cant meaning, which would now be expressed by “religious.” “So much the better for him. I can trust you to say nothing to his sister about this?” “Now, is it likely? But the least you can do now is to let her come with us. His twin sister! you couldn’t have the heart to separate them when he may have such dreadful things before him?” “How would it be better if she were there?” he asked gloomily; but, as if by a sudden impulse, parted the curtain and advanced into the room. Penelope, her song ended, was toying with the knot of scarlet ribbons attached to the guitar, while her hearers were trying to decide upon the next song, when the group was divided by the abrupt entrance of a huge man, as it seemed to her, in extraordinary clothes. It struck her as remarkable that every man in the room seemed to stiffen into attention at the moment, and she rose hesitatingly, wondering whether this could possibly be Sir Henry Lennox. “Do me the honour to present me, Lady Haigh,” said the stranger, in a deep voice which seemed to be subdued for the occasion. “Major Keeling, Miss Ross,” said Lady Haigh promptly. She was enjoying herself. “I hear you wish to come up to Alibad with us,” said Major Keeling abruptly. “Can you ride?” “Yes, I am very fond of it.” “I don’t mean trotting along an English road. Can you ride on through the sand hour after hour, so as to keep up with the column, and not complain? Complaints would mean that you would go no farther.” “I can promise I won’t complain. If I feel I can’t stick on my horse any longer, I will get some one to tie me into the saddle.” Penelope smiled slightly. This catechism was not without its humorous side. “Can you cut down your baggage to regulation limits? Let me see, what did I promise you, Lady Haigh? A camel? Well, half that. Can you do with a camel between you?” “I think so.” Penelope was conscious of Lady Haigh’s face of agony. “You must, if you come. Can you do what you are told?” “I--I believe so. I generally do.” “If you get orders to leave Alibad in an hour, can you forsake everything, and be ready for the march? That’s what I mean. If I find it necessary to send you down, go you must. Can you make yourself useful? Oh, I daresay you can do pretty things like most young ladies, but can you put yourself at the surgeon’s disposal after a fight, and be some good?”