'In the East; it was not for me to know where; and Gregory wanted a man who knew the East, in whom he could trust lock, stock and barrel. Directly he saw St. Mabyn, he fastened on him as his man, and he clung to him all the more tightly when St. Mabyn told him his story. '"I'll keep Springfield, and his little game in mind, St. Mabyn," he said; "but for the time you must remain dead. This is an important job, and it must be done quietly." 'That was why he came to India, and why the story which I imagine Springfield got into the papers was never contradicted. On his way to his job, however, he got thinking things over. Naturally he wanted not only his brother to know, but his fiancee, Miss Blackwater. So knowing where I was, he looked me up and told me what I have told you. It seems he had heard I was due to return home, and he asked me to look up his brother and Miss Blackwater, and to tell them that his death was by no means certain, and that he might turn up all right. 'Not long after, fresh drafts of men came to Bizna, and on the day they arrived I asked a young chap called Dawkins who they were. He mentioned several names, and among them was Springfield's. '"What Springfield?" I asked, for I remembered I had a distant relative of that name. '"Oh, he was in Upper Egypt. His family came from Devonshire, and he was a great friend of Maurice St. Mabyn who was killed. Poor chap, when he told us the story he nearly broke down. I never knew he had so much feeling in him." 'I don't know why it was, but I lost my head. I suppose the fellow's hypocrisy disgusted me so that I blurted out what St. Mabyn told me to keep quiet. '"The blackguard," I said "he deserves to be shot, and will be shot, or hanged!" '"Who's a blackguard?" asked Dawkins. '"Springfield," I replied. "Grieving about the death of Maurice St. Mabyn! Why, the coward, he--he--; but Maurice St. Mabyn will turn up again, and--and----" '"But St. Mabyn's dead!" cried Dawkins. "I saw it reported myself." '"He isn't dead?" I blurted out. '"But how can that be?" asked Dawkins. '"Because I believe in my own eyes and ears," I replied. 'After that, I was under the impression that I was watched and followed. More than once when I thought I was alone I heard stealthy footsteps behind me, but although I tried to verify my suspicions I could not. However, I did not trouble, for in due time I started for home. I arranged to break my journey to Bombay at a place where I had been stationed for six months. It was only a one horse sort of a show, but I had some pals there, and they had insisted on my spending a day or two with them. It took me three days to get there, and on my arrival I found a long telegram purporting to be from my colonel, requesting me to go to an outpost station where important information would be given me. It also urged me to be silent about it.