A MAGAZINE ARTICLE The little war of Chiltistan was soon forgotten by the world.

But it lived vividly enough in the memories of a few people to whom it had brought either suffering or fresh honours.

But most of all it was remembered by Sybil Linforth, so that even after fourteen years a chance word, or a trivial coincidence, would bring back to her the horror and the misery of that time as freshly as if only a single day had intervened.

Such a coincidence happened on this morning of August.
She was in the garden with her back to the Downs which rose high from close behind the house, and she was looking across the fields rich with orchards and yellow crops.

She saw a small figure climb a stile and come towards the house along a footpath, increasing in stature as it approached.