“I should imagine he didn’t come because you have never allowed him to see you for weeks. But as for his sending me----!” the doctor laughed stormily. “If you want to punish me for what I have said to you, all you have to do is to tell him I have been here, and what I came for. I don’t think the province would hold me. But I don’t care, if it meant that you would treat him properly. Do you know what Keeling did for me? You mayn’t think it to look at me now, but I was as wild as the best of them when I knew him first. He was a queer, long-legged youngster when he joined the old --th, as dark as a native, pretty nearly--‘fifteen annas’ was what they generally called him--and the greenest, most innocent creature you can imagine. He must have had a terrible time, for there was scarcely a single thing he did like other people--I know I took my share in making his life a burden to him. Well, we had been having a big _tamasha_ of some sort one night, when I was called to a bad case in hospital. An operation was needed, and I insisted on doing it at once. It was a thing that demanded a steady hand--and my hand was not steady--you can guess why. Something slipped--and the man died. An inquiry was called for, and I knew that I was ruined. There was only one thing to be done that I could see--to blow out my brains--and I was just going to do it when Keeling came in. None of the other men had come near me, though they must have guessed, as he had done, what I was up to, but I suppose they thought it was the best way out of it for me. He stopped me, though I fought him for the pistol--vowed I should not do it, and talked to me until I gave in. Of his own free will he offered never to touch wine or spirits again if I would do the same, and actually entreated me to accept the offer. He came and chummed with me in my bungalow--the other men had cleared out; I daresay I was as savage as a bear--and stood by me all through the inquiry. I lost my post--had to begin again at the bottom of the list of assistant-surgeons--but he stood by me. We were through the Ethiopian War together, and when Old Harry picked him out to come up here and raise the Khemistan Horse, he got leave for me to come too. Now you see what I owe to him; but he may kick me out of Khemistan, and welcome, if it means that you will only treat him decently.” “Indeed, indeed I have tried,” cried Penelope, with tears in her eyes, “but I cannot meet him. It is like that with the others--I make up my mind that I will see them, and try to talk, but as soon as I hear them in the verandah I feel that I cannot meet their eyes, and I rush out of the room.” “Pure nervousness. You must get over it, Miss Ross. No one expects you not to grieve for your brother, but this sort of thing can do the poor fellow no good, and it is very hard on those who are left.” “I know they must feel it is my fault----”