He felt unusually low in his mind, and so, after having waited to the very last as in duty bound, to turn any would-be revellers decently out of the club, he lit another cigar--his first one having been interrupted--and wandered out into the Garden Mound again. Most of the lights were out, only a belated lantern or two swung fitfully among the trees, but a crescent moon was showing, and there was just that faint hint of light in the sky which tells of dawn to come. He sat down on the step of the granite obelisk, which held on all four sides the close-ranged names of those who had given their lives to keep the English flag flying, and, full of cynical disgust at much he had seen that evening, asked himself if Nushapore was likely to bring such heroism again to the storehouse of the world's good deeds? Perhaps; but even so, it would have to be something very different from that past story,--something that Englishmen and women could not monopolise. For if, after forty years of government, our rule had failed to win over the allegiance of men--like Chris Davenant, for instance--would not that, in itself, be a condemnation? And had it won such allegiance? With that scene fresh in his memory, Jack Raymond doubted if it were possible. Truly the conditions had changed, indeed! As he had said, Brian O'Lynn's breeches were not in it for topsyturveydom! But with the thought came also the memory of what he had said about Jerry and the carrying on of British rule; and with that came the memory of what the Thakoor had said about the boy. Dear little chap! A great tenderness swept through him for the child. And for the child's mother, the woman who had refused----? The question was not answered. He started up--incredulous--then set off running, calling as he ran, "Jerry! Jerry! What on earth are you up to? Jerry! Jerry!" For in the dimness that was not quite darkness, he had seen a little figure running like a hare between the bushes, a little figure in an Eton suit with a gleam of white collar. "Jerry! Jerry! you little fool! pull up, will you!" There was no answer, and he had lost sight of the boy; but, as he ran on, the sound of other footsteps behind him made him look round and pause. For it was my Lady Greensleeves running too. He could see the "crimson stockings all o' silk, and pumps white as is the milk," as they sped over the grass. "Jerry!" she gasped. "Where is he? What is it?" "On ahead somewhere! God knows! I told you we were all mad," he answered as he ran on. The flowering bushes, growing thick upon the lawns near the cemetery, hid his quarry; but suddenly, on the double back towards the Residency, the child's figure showed, still running like a hare. In the light of a Chinese lantern that flared up as candle met paper, his face looked dogged. 'Whoo hoop! gone away! Stick to 'im, sir! stick to 'im-- "For we'll all go a-'unting to-day! we'll all go a-'unting to-day!"