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 fellow," said Grayne, when the man had gone away. "It's very unjust, I take it, for he was certainly devoted to Hastings, and saved his life, they say. But Arabs are often like that, loyal to one man. I can't help feeling he might cut anybody else's throat, and even do it treacherously." "Well," said Travers, with a rather sour smile, "so long as he leaves Hastings alone the world won't mind much." There was a rather embarrassing silence, full of memories of the great battle, and then Horne Fisher said, quietly: "The newspapers aren't the world, Tom. Don't you worry about them. Everybody in your world knows the truth well enough." "I think we'd better not talk about the general just now," remarked Grayne, "for he's just coming out of the club." "He's not coming here," said Fisher. "He's only seeing his wife to the car." As he spoke, indeed, the lady came out on the steps of the club, followed by her husband, who then went swiftly in front of her to open the garden gate. As he did so she turned back and spoke for a moment to a solitary man still sitting in a cane chair in the shadow of the doorway, the only man left in the deserted club save for the three that lingered in the garden. Fisher peered for a moment into the shadow, and saw that it was Captain Boyle.