DREADFUL NEWS It was nearly a week later that Audrey, riding home alone in a rickshaw from a polo-match, was overtaken by young Gerald Devereux, a subaltern, who was tearing along on foot as if on some urgent errand.

Recognising her, he reduced his speed and dropped into a jog-trot by her side.
"You haven't heard, of course ?" he jerked out breathlessly.

"Beastly bad news! Those hill tribes--always up to some devilry! Poor old Phil--infernal luck!" "What ?" exclaimed Audrey.

"What has happened to him?
Tell me, quick, quick!" She turned as white as paper, and Devereux cursed himself for a clumsy fool.
"It may not be the worst," he gasped back.

"Dash it! I'm so winded! We hope, you know, we hope--but it's usually a knife and good-bye with these ruffians.