'Yes, Excellency,' said Subdul, whose dark face was glowing with pleasure. 'I gave up your Highness's letters; and the Sahib who has come back with me brings word from his lords. We carried no letters, for there were two of us, and the task was so much the greater. But the face of the Sahib will be known to his Excellency, and he will be able to trust his word.' 'I would trust no one more than you, Subdul,' said Tom affectionately. 'My own brother--the son of my mother--could not have stood by me more truly than you have done. What would you have to mark my gratitude--gold, jewels, a robe of honour?' 'I would have nothing, Excellency, until these troubles are over,' said Subdul. 'For my master to call me brother is more than sufficient reward. And here comes the Sahib. Shall Subdul leave?' 'No. Stay where you are. You have earned a right to our fullest confidence. Have you eaten?' 'Yes, Excellency. While my master was talking with Ganesh food was brought to me.' 'Then sit down and rest,' said Tom, pointing to a pile of cushions close by. Subdul obeyed deprecatingly, though as a fact his limbs, which had been in strong exercise for many hours, were nearly giving way under him from fatigue. Then, once more, the purdah before the door was lifted, and Bertie Liston, shaved and washed, and dressed in the whitest of English linen, and the most artistically built of Tom's English suits, which fitted him almost to perfection, came in. The contrast between this trim English gentleman and his present surroundings was so fantastic a thing that, excited and unstrung as he was, Tom could scarcely help laughing. As for Bertie, he made no bones about it; he laughed outright. Poor fellow! he was to hear in a few moments what would make him feel, like Trixy, that he would never be able to laugh again. He apologised, in the meantime, in his airy and graceful fashion. 'Excuse me, Mr. Gregory; but really this is--well--like a chapter out of Haroun El Raschid, or the other fellow, don't you know. You are Mr. Gregory, I suppose. Couldn't that good fellow, Subdul, give us a little more light on the subject? Ah! thanks,' as a pair of heavy gold candlesticks were placed on the table at Tom's elbow. 'Now we can see one another, and I begin to recognise you. We met at Meerut, if you remember, in the spring. Capital dance you gave, by-the-bye. Different sort of meeting this.' 'But a good meeting all the same,' said Tom, wringing Bertie's hand. 'And you look just as you did then. Sit down. Have they given you supper?' 'Enough to go on upon,' answered Bertie, laughing. 'A magnificent meal of some kind is being prepared outside. You are a regular Monte Cristo, old fellow.' 'Then if you can wait, and are able to talk, tell me for heaven's sake how they all are--the dear old General and Lady Elton and the girls.' 'They are pretty well, thank you. It was hoped, when we left, that General Elton had taken a turn for the better.' 'Has he been ill, then?' asked Tom.