Ralston on his part was kind to the boy partly because he liked him and admired his staunchness, and partly because his wife's unwilling departure had left him lonely. He and Major Burton for some reason were not so friendly as of yore, and they no longer spent their evenings in strict seclusion with the chess-board. He took to walking back from the Mess with Tommy, and encouraged the latter to drop in at his bungalow for a smoke whenever he felt inclined. It was but a short distance from The Green Bungalow, and, as he was wont to remark, it was one degree more cheerful for which consideration Tommy was profoundly grateful. Notwithstanding Bernard's kind and wholesome presence, there were times when the atmosphere of The Green Bungalow was almost more than he could bear. He was powerless to help, and the long drawn-out misery weighed upon him unendurably. He infinitely preferred smoking a silent pipe in Ralston's company or messing about with him in his little surgery as he was sometimes permitted to do. On the evening before the day fixed for the execution at Khanmulla, they were engaged in this fashion when the _khitmutgar_ entered with the news that a _sahib_ desired to speak to him. "Oh, bother!" said Ralston crossly. "Who is it? Don't you know?" The man hesitated, and it occurred to Tommy instantly that there was a hint of mystery in his manner. The _sahib_ had ridden through the jungle from Khanmulla, he said. He gave no name. "Confounded fool!" said Ralston. "No one but a born lunatic would do a thing like that. Go and see what he wants like a good chap, Tommy! I'm busy." Tommy rose with alacrity. His curiosity was aroused. "Perhaps it's Monck," he said. "More likely Barnes," said Ralston. "Only I shouldn't have thought he'd be such a fool. Keep your eyes skinned!" he added, as Tommy went to the door. "Don't get shot or stuck by anybody! If I'm really wanted, I'll come." Tommy grinned at the caution and departed. He had ceased to anticipate any serious trouble in the State, and nothing really exciting ever came his way. He went through the bungalow to the dining-room still half expecting to find his brother-in-law awaiting him. But the moment he entered, he had a shock. A man in a rough tweed coat was sitting at the table in an odd, hunched attitude, almost as if he had fallen into the chair that supported him. He turned his head a little at Tommy's entrance, but not so that the light revealed his face. "Hullo!" he said. "That you, Ralston? I've got a bullet in my left shoulder. Do you mind getting it out?" Tommy stopped dead. He felt as if his heart stopped also. He knew--surely he knew--that voice! But it was not that of Everard or Barnes, or of any one he had ever expected to meet again on earth. "What--what--" he gasped feebly, and went backwards against the door-post. "Am I drunk?" he questioned with himself. The man in the chair turned more fully. "Why, it's Tommy!" he said.