Just then an Equerry came down the stairway, and gave to MacNeill a letter from her Majesty to be despatched. The trooper, muttering wrathfully, set on his helmet, took up his gloves and sword, and swaggered away down the stairs. Without, they heard his horse dancing with excitement, break off at a canter into the distance. Sydney and the Prince laughed together. "Maharajah," my Lord Sydney laid his hands very tenderly upon Ali's shoulders. "Do you believe that I am your friend?" "Surely you have proved it more than once." "Will you promise me not to be offended if I ask a still more personal question than even MacNeill dared?" The beautiful dark eyes glowed. "Go on, my dear Sydney." "What if I hurt, Maharajah? Your heart has changed to us since you came to England; you know now that we are not all brutes. You know that some of us, unbelievers, are not to be bought?" "What do you mean?" An ominous flush burned in Prince Ali's face. "When you bought my father with two million pounds, did you know where the money came from?" Under the dark skin came pallor, and concentrated rage leaped to Prince Ali's eyes, as he recoiled. "Understand this, my lord," said the Maharajah of Haidar. "One cannot hate an enemy from the very heart unless he has been a friend. Withdraw that question; I give you the chance to withdraw. To no other man living would I allow so much." "I must repeat my question, Maharajah." "I'll have your life for this!" "And afterwards? How could you possibly remain in the household? Come, deny the charge, Prince, and let me beg your pardon." "By Azrael----" "Don't swear at me. I give you a week to leave Her Majesty's service." A young man, a civilian, was coming up the stairway, a big boy with blue eyes and freckles, who carried a letter in his hand. Lord Sydney turned to him as he reached the stairhead. "Can I serve you?" asked the guardsman, courteously. The boy drew nearer. "If you please," he said nervously, "this letter is for the Adjutant." "A rookie?" "My name is Browne, sir, and I----" "Fresh from the incubator?" "I've passed," said the boy in shy triumph, "but the Adjutant?" "I think the Adjutant is out on the tiles. Let me introduce you; Mr. Browne, Trooper Ali." Prince Ali bowed stiffly and walked away. "Won't you sit down?" Lord Sydney offered a chair. The boy sat down, and Sydney joining him, he produced a cigarette case. The trooper appeared to be shocked. "Put it away," he whispered. "We don't smoke--bad for a man in training." From a syphon on the table beside him he filled a glass with sparkling water, a delicately flavoured draught, which the boy accepted wondering. "Don't you drink wine or----" "Never breathe the word! We must keep in condition, with the Tournament due next month, or the Tommies will carry off half our trophies. What games do you play, Mr. Browne? We want new blood badly, especially in the cricket field. I'm captain of the first eleven."