Later, it grew intermittent, fitful, as if at each turn the Sentry paused. It always went on again, or so she thought. And she was sure she was not deeply sleeping, or that haunting cry of an owl had not penetrated her consciousness so frequently. Once, oddly, there came to her--perhaps it was a dream--a sound as of voices whispering together. She turned in her sleep and tried to listen, but her senses were fogged, benumbed. She could not at the moment drag herself free from the stupor of weariness that held her. But she was sure of Peter, quite sure that he would call her if any emergency arose. And there was no one with whom he could be whispering. So she was sure it must be a dream. Imperceptibly she sank still deeper into slumber and forgot.... It was several hours later that Tommy, returned from early parade, flung himself impetuously down at the table opposite Bernard with a brief, "Now for it!" Bernard was reading a letter, and Tommy's eyes fastened upon it as his were lifted. "What's that? A letter from Everard?" he asked unceremoniously. "Yes. He has written to tell me definitely that he has sent in his resignation--and it has been accepted." Bernard's reply was wholly courteous, the boy's bluntness notwithstanding. He had a respect for Tommy. "Oh, damn!" said Tommy with fervor. "What is he going to do now?" "He doesn't tell me that." Bernard folded the letter and put it in his pocket. "What's your news?" he inquired. Tommy marked the action with somewhat jealous eyes. He had been aware of Everard's intention for some time. It had been more or less inevitable. But he wished he had written to him also. There were several things he would have liked to know. He looked at Bernard rather blankly, ignoring his question. "What the devil is he going to do?" he said. "Dropout?" Bernard's candid eyes met his. "Honestly I don't know," he said. "Perhaps he is just waiting for orders." "Will he come back here?" questioned Tommy. Bernard shook his head. "No. I'm pretty sure he won't. Now tell me your news!" "Oh, it's nothing!" said Tommy impatiently. "Nothing, I mean, compared to his clearing out. The trial is over and the man is condemned. He is to be executed next week. It'll mean a shine of some sort--nothing very great, I am afraid." "That all?" said Bernard, with a smile. "No, not quite all. There was some secret information given which it is supposed was rather damaging to the Rajah, for he has taken to his heels. No one knows where he is, or at least no one admits he does. You know these Oriental chaps. They can cover the scent of a rotten herring. He'll probably never turn up again. The place is too hot to hold him. He can finish his rotting in another corner of the Empire; and I wish Netta Ermsted joy of her bargain!" ended Tommy with vindictive triumph. "My good fellow!" protested Bernard.