He did not answer her by a single word. He simply rose to his feet, as if by her action she had suggested it, and whirled her in among the dancers. He kept her going to the very last chord, she too full of wonder and uncertainty to protest; and then he led her straight through the room to where Mrs. Raleigh stood, surrounded by the usual crowd of subalterns, muttered an excuse, and left her there. CHAPTER IX DREADFUL NEWS It was nearly a week later that Audrey, riding home alone in a rickshaw from a polo-match, was overtaken by young Gerald Devereux, a subaltern, who was tearing along on foot as if on some urgent errand. Recognising her, he reduced his speed and dropped into a jog-trot by her side. "You haven't heard, of course?" he jerked out breathlessly. "Beastly bad news! Those hill tribes--always up to some devilry! Poor old Phil--infernal luck!" "What?" exclaimed Audrey. "What has happened to him? Tell me, quick, quick!" She turned as white as paper, and Devereux cursed himself for a clumsy fool. "It may not be the worst," he gasped back. "Dash it! I'm so winded! We hope, you know, we hope--but it's usually a knife and good-bye with these ruffians. Still, there's a chance--just a chance." "But you haven't told me what has happened yet," cried Audrey, in a fever of impatience. He answered her, still running by her side "The Waris have got him; rushed his camp at night and bagged everything. The coolies were in the know, no doubt. Only his _shikari_ got away. He has just come in wounded with the news. I'm on my way to tell the Chief, though I don't see what good he can do." "You mean you think he is murdered?" gasped Audrey, through white lips. He nodded. "Afraid so, poor beggar! Well, so long, Mrs. Tudor! We must hope for the best as long as we can." He put his hand to his cap, and ran on, while Audrey, with a set, white face, was borne to her bungalow. Her husband was sitting on the veranda. He rose as she alighted and gave her his hand up the short flight of steps to his side. "You are rather late," he said in his grave way. "I am afraid you will have to hurry." They were dining out that night, but Audrey had forgotten it. She stared at him as if dazed. "What is it?" he asked. "Nothing wrong?" She gasped hysterically. "Oh, Eustace, an awful thing--an awful thing!" she cried. "Mr. Devereux has just told me--" Her voice broke, and her lips formed soundless words. She groped vaguely for support with one hand. Tudor put his arm round her and led her, tottering, indoors. "All right; tell me presently," he said quietly. "Sit down and keep still for a little." He put her into an arm-chair and left her there. In a few seconds he returned with some brandy and water, which he held to her lips in silence. Then, setting down the glass, he began to rub her nerveless hands. Audrey submitted passively at first to his ministrations, but presently as her strength returned she sat up.