'Deary dear!' ejaculated Jân-Ali-shân sympathetically. It was really the only remark he could think of in such an extraordinary connection. 'It doesn't last, though, does it?' asked Chris after another long pause. 'And it gives you a headache next morning, doesn't it?' Jân-Ali-shân's fluency returned to him. 'Lor' love you, no, sir! Not if you's used to it; special if kind friends put you to by-bye proper.' He broke off, then turned to Chris and shook his head--'Now you, sir, if I may make so bold, looks as if you 'ad one. You takes things too dutiful, sir, I expec's. It's 'ard on the 'ead, sir, is duty.' Even _so_ much sympathy drove Chris to hiding the mist in his eyes by watching the monkeys. They were jostling and hustling, as ever, over the prize; but the sight for a wonder had brought few spectators, and such as they were stood far off, more curious than amused. Jân-Ali-shân, looking towards them, raised his eyebrows and nodded carelessly. 'Got the 'ump to-day, 'as you, Ram-sammy? Well, keep it, sonny! It don't make no odds to me or 'Oneyman. Do it, siree?' Apparently none, for the hoary old sinner, out and away the tamest there, was pouching sugar-drops as fast as he could from the loafer's hand. 'Ellison,' came Chris Davenant's voice at last, with a note of decision in it, 'what would you do if you found yourself in--in such a tight place that you couldn't--yes, that you couldn't possibly get out of it?' 'Do?' echoed the other slowly, as he shook out the crumbs and tore the paper into fragments. 'W'y, kill the chap as put me there, if it was John Ellison 'imself as done the job! That's what I'd do, sir.' Chris rose, and the note of decision was stronger. 'Thanks,' he said briefly, 'I think you're right.' But Jân-Ali-shân had risen also, and now stood facing his superior officer with an expression of kindly tolerance and mournful respect.