He shifted uneasily in his chair and his eyes fell on Mrs. Norton's portrait. At the sight of it his Company Commander's advice to him about her and Mrs. Trevor's spiteful remarks flashed across his mind. Could Violet be mixed up in all this? Was his friendship with her perhaps the cause of the trouble? He dismissed the idea at once. There was nothing to be ashamed of in their relations. A figure darkened the doorway. It was Raymond. Wargrave sprang up and rushed to him. "What in Heaven's name is it all about, Ray?" he cried. "Is the Colonel mad?" The adjutant took off his helmet and flung it on the table. "Well, tell me. What the devil have I done?" said his friend impatiently. Raymond tried to speak but failed. "Go on, man. What is it?" cried Wargrave, seizing his arm. The adjutant burst out: "It's a damned shame, old man. I'm sorry." "But what is it? What is it, I say?" cried Wargrave, shaking him. The adjutant nodded his head towards the big photograph on the writing-table. "It's Mrs. Norton," he said. "Mrs. Norton?" echoed his friend. "What the--what's she got to do with it?" Raymond threw himself into a chair. "Someone's been making mischief. The C.O.'s been told that there might be a scandal so he's got scared lest trouble should come to him." Frank stared blankly at the speaker, then suddenly turned and walked out of the bungalow. The pony was standing huddled into the patch of shade at the side of the house, the _syce_ squatting on the ground at its head and holding the reins. Wargrave sprang into the saddle and galloped out of the compound. Raymond ran to the verandah and saw him thundering down the sandy road that led to the residency. Arrived at the big white building Frank pulled up his panting pony on its haunches and dismounting threw the reins over its head and left it unattended. Walking to the hall door he cried: "_Koi hai_?" A drowsy _chuprassi_ at the back of the hall sprang up and hurried to receive him. "_Memsahib hai_? (Is the mistress in?)" "_Hai, sahib_. (Yes, sir)" said the servant salaaming. Wargrave was free of the house and, taking off his hat, went into the cool hall and walked up the great staircase. He entered the drawing-room. After the blinding glare outside the closely-shuttered apartment seemed so dark that at first it was difficult for him to see if it were tenanted or not. But it was empty; and he paced the floor impatiently, frowning in chaotic thought. "Good morning, Frank. You are early to-day. And what a bad temper you seem to be in!" exclaimed a laughing voice; and Mrs. Norton, looking radiant and delightfully cool in a thin white Madras muslin dress, entered the room. He went to her. "They're sending me away, Violet," he said. "Sending you away?" she repeated in an astonished tone. "Sending you where?" "To hell, I think," he cried. "Oh, I beg your pardon. I mean--yes, they're sending me away from Rohar, from you. Sending me to the other side of India."