"You may leave the house, then, and take your trooper. I accept your promise. Before you go, though, I'll tell you something. The ordering of troops for the front--for France--is in my hands. Your regiment is slated for to-morrow. But it can't go unless you'll see this through. The whole regiment will be needed, instead, to mount guard over Delhi." "The regiment is to go, sahib, and my squadron, and--and I not? I am not to go?" "That is the sacrifice you are asked to make!" "Have I made no sacrifices for the Raj? How has my life been spent? Sahib----" The Sikh's voice broke and he ceased speaking, but the general, too, seemed at a loss for words. "Sahib--do I understand? If I do this--this rat-business, whatever it is--Colonel Kirby and the regiment go, and another leads my squadron? And unless I do this, whatever it is, the regiment will not go?" The general nodded. He felt and looked ashamed. "Has war been declared, sahib?" "Yes. Germany has invaded Belgium." For a second the Sikh's eyes blazed, but the fire died down again. He clasped his hands in front of him and hung his head. "I will do this thing that I am asked to do," he said; but his words were scarcely audible. His trooper came a step closer, to be nearer to him in his minute of acutest agony. "Thou and I, Jagut Singh! We both stay behind!" "Now, Risaldar-Major, I want you to listen! You've promised like a man," said the general. "I'll make you the best promise I can in return. Mine's conditional, but it's none the less emphatic. If possible, you shall catch your regiment before it puts to sea. If that's impossible, you shall take passage on another ship and try to overtake it. If that again is impossible, you shall follow your regiment and be in France in time to lead your squadron. I think I may say you are sure to be there before the regiment goes into action. But, understand--I said, 'If possible!'" Ranjoor Singh's eye brightened and he straightened perceptibly. "This trooper, sahib----" "My promise is for him as well." "We accept, sahib! What is the duty?" "First, write a note to Colonel Kirby--I'll see that it's delivered--asking him to put your name in Orders as assigned to special duty. Here's paper and a fountain pen." "Why should all this be secret from Colonel Kirby?" asked Ranjoor Singh. "There is no wiser and no more loyal officer!" "Nor any officer more pugnacious on his juniors' account, I assure you! I can't imagine his agreeing to the use I'm making of you. I've no time to listen to his protests. Write, man, write!" "Give me the paper and the pen, sahib!" Ranjoor Singh wrote by the light of a flickering oil lamp, using his trooper's shoulder for support. He passed the finished note back to the general. "Now some token, please, Risaldar-Major, that Colonel Kirby will be sure to recognize--something to prove that the note is not forged." Ranjoor Singh pulled a ring from his finger and held it out.