"Yes, that's the commander-in-chief," said Paterson again. "Now, Ted, I've shown you round, and it's your turn to enlighten me now. I only know the bare facts that you have been cleared, and that Tynan is a howling cad." So Ted had once more to tell what had befallen Tynan and himself at Lahore, and when he had finished the narrative, Alec asked: "And what became of Pir Baksh?" "He was condemned to death and shot the day before I left Lahore. Colonel Woodburn and Munro were almost as pleased as I was when the truth came out, for I really think that they believed that I had been unjust to poor Tynan. But Ethel Woodburn had stuck up for me through thick and thin." "Miss Woodburn is the nicest, jolliest girl in India," said Alec with conviction, "and your brother's a jolly lucky fellow." "He is so. Yes, she's all that and more, and she kept my spirits up when I was feeling jolly well down in the mouth. Wasn't she glad when I was cleared! It was almost worth while having gone through it all. I don't suppose I'll ever see Tynan again. Poor beggar, I'm sorry for him, for I don't think he ever meant to do it." "What became of those Rajputs he'd bribed?" "They were dismissed from the service. Dwarika Rai begged my pardon before he went. He said that he hadn't understood that his evidence might disgrace me until it was too late for him to draw back, and I believed him." "It was a funny business altogether," was Claude's opinion, given in a tone of unusual thoughtfulness. "The man must have been mad." "He was a born cad," said Paterson, "and deserved the same fate as Pir Baksh." "I don't agree with you," said Ted. "I think there's some good in him." "Precious little. But I haven't time to argue; I must make a strategical retirement. See you to-morrow." After Alec's departure Claude and Ted found their way to the roof of the Alambagh, where were one or two officers whom they did not know. Over the expanse of wooded plain they caught glimpses of the mosques and minarets and gilded spires of Lucknow, rearing their heads above the abundant foliage of the parks and great gardens. The city seemed to stretch as far as the eye could reach, and they both experienced a curious thrill as they gazed thereat. "And that's where Sir Henry Lawrence died, and where Outram and Havelock are now," observed Ted, almost in a whisper. "Eighty-seven days they held out before Havelock got through," Claude reflected aloud. "It was a grand defence. I wonder whereabouts the Residency is?" "Over there, due north," said a voice beside them. "Thank you!" Claude replied; and they looked at the speaker, a clean-shaven man with hair inclined to wave, attired in a dress that seemed singularly out of place there, even among so great a variety of uniforms. He wore a blue frock-coat, and his white trousers were unstrapped; there was a white cover to his cap, and hunting-spurs adorned his shoes. "Where are you youngsters from?" he asked.