A day passed in the hut in the Promontoire of the Meije stood out vividly in his memories.

He saw the snow rising in a swirl of white over the Breche de la Meije, that gap in the rock-wall between the Meije and the Rateau, and driving down the glacier towards the hut.

He remembered the eagerness, the enthusiasm of Shere Ali.
"But he's loyal," Linforth cried.

"There is no one in India more loyal." "He was loyal, no doubt," said Ralston, with a shrug of his shoulders, and, beginning with his first meeting with Shere Ali in Lahore, he told Linforth all that he knew of the history of the young Prince.
"There can be no doubt," he said, "of his disloyalty," and he recounted the story of the melons and the bags of grain.

"Since then he has been intriguing in Calcutta." "Is he in Calcutta now ?" Linforth asked.
"No," said Ralston.