"You have done well!" the soldier said, on a brief report.

"Let nothing be touched.

My guard will prevent any one leaving the grounds!" There was a sullen apathy as regarded the unloved old egoist.
Major Alan Hawke sprang to his feet, hastily, as the excited Club Steward, forgetting all his decorum, banged loudly upon the staff officer's bedroom door.

The young man was still in the dress of night, as the Steward excitedly exclaimed: "Here's a fearful deed! Hugh Johnstone has been murdered in his bed, and--they've sent for you!" Alan Hawke was staggered.

"Get me a horse, at once! I must report to the General! When, where, how?
Tell me all! Send off a man for the horse!" And, as Hawke hastily donned his uniform, he heard the Hindu servant's story.
"Be off! Tell Simpson I go first to the General, and, then, I will come over to the house!" As Major Hawke strode through the clubroom, a half-dozen half-dressed clubmen seized upon him.