hide his pleasure. “It was not your wont in the jungle days to desert your post in times of danger. In your absence some evil thing has befallen him whom we are pledged to guard.”
“Nay, Sahib, but hear me. It is not thy servant who has deserted his post, but his post which has deserted him,” protested the Pathan, with dignified reproof. “The great Lord Duke ran away—oh so far and so fast—and thy servant ran after in his tracks to see that no harm befell him.”
“Well, where is the Duke now, man?” the General blurted out in great excitement. “Surely you haven’t come back to tell me that you have lost him?”
“The Duke is in the fire-carriage, Sahib; and thy servant having no sufficient money or orders from the Sahib, was not able to follow further than the station,” Azimoolah replied.
Pressed to be more explicit, this was the story he had to impart. He had been patrolling the park, ever with a watchful eye for the house, when between five and six he had seen the Duke come from one of the ground-floor windows and make at great speed for the coppices. Keeping himself concealed, Azimoolah
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