“Yes, but there’s another chance still. Suppose he is in Bahram Khan’s hands, after all, but too badly wounded to be moved? Bahram Khan would know that he could not make use of him without showing him, and that he would be no good to him dead. So what if he is keeping him prisoner just with that in view--to produce him when he gets better, and offer to give him up if we surrender the fort? Yes, the more I think it over, the more I feel certain that it must be that.” “And what then?” asked Fitz, as she paused eagerly. “Why then, don’t you see, if we once knew that he was a prisoner, and where he was kept, a force could go out and rescue him, as they did the guns. There isn’t a man that would not volunteer, and then he would be saved.” “But how are we to find out whether he is a prisoner?” “Oh, surely you must know! Don’t pretend to be so stupid. Some one must go and see--dress up as a native, and get into the enemy’s camp.” He laughed. “Curiously enough, the Colonel was talking of something of the kind this very morning. He wants to know whether there is really a rumour among the enemy about a relieving force.” “And who is to go?” “Who? Oh, I think that old _daffadar_ of Haycraft’s, Sultan Jān, was the man pitched upon at last. He is the foxiest old beggar alive, and less known about here than most of our fellows.” “Only Sultan Jān?” in deep disappointment. “But you are dark--you know the language so well--you are such a good scout--you are going?” “I, Miss North? Why in the world----” “To find Dick, because you and he are such friends--because I ask you.” “I am very much honoured, but surely the Commissioner is the natural person----” “The Commissioner would be too lame to go,” cried Mabel, in confusion, “and even if he wasn’t, I couldn’t ask him.” Fitz’s look of surprise, less for the fact than for her mention of it, reminded her that her words must sound strangely in his ears. “Perhaps I ought to explain,” she stammered. “I--I am not engaged to Mr Burgrave now.” “Oh, indeed!” said Fitz slowly, readjusting his ideas as he spoke. Only the night before he had heard Haycraft say to Flora that the Commissioner and Miss North must have quarrelled, for they had not spoken for days, and she was not wearing his ring. Certain hopes of Fitz’s own had sprung up anew at that moment, only to be dashed to earth again by Flora’s confident assurance that the estrangement could be only a temporary one. She was certain that the engagement was not broken off, or Mabel would have told her. Now, however, it appeared that Flora had been mistaken. Fitz drew a deep breath. “You want me to go in disguise and make inquiries about your brother, because you ask me? Not so very long ago we were discussing a certain subject, and I agreed not to mention it again without your permission. If I go, will you give me that permission?”