202 The Light That Failed “What’s the need for saying anything? Get up and tramp.” Torpenhow was perfectly satisfied. They walked up and down as of custom, Torpenhow’s hand on Dick’s shoulder, and Dick buried in his own thoughts. “How in the world did you find it all out?” said Dick, at last. “You shouldn’t go off your head if you want to keep secrets, Dickie. It was absolutely impertinent on my part; but if you’d seen me rocketing about on a halftrained French troop-horse under a blazing sun you'd have laughed. There will be a charivari in my rooms tonight. Seven other devils —” “I know — the row in the Southern Sudan. I surprised their councils the other day, and it made me unhappy. Have you fixed your flint to go? Who d’you work for?” “Haven’t signed any contracts yet. I wanted to see how your business would turn out.” “Would you have stayed with me, then, if — things had gone wrong?” He put his question cautiously. “Don’t ask me too much. I’m only a man.” “You've tried to be an angel very successfully.” “Oh ye — es! ... Well, do you attend the function tonight? We shall be half screwed before the morning. All the men believe the war’s a certainty.” “T don’t think I will, old man, if it’s all the same to you. ’ll stay quiet here.” “And meditate? I don’t blame you. You observe a good time if ever a man did.” That night there was a tumult on the stairs. The correspondents poured in from theater, dinner, and music-hall to Torpenhow’s room that they might discuss their plan of campaign in the event of military operations becoming a certainty. Torpenhow, the Keneu,, and the Nilghai had bidden all the men they had worked with to the orgy; and Mr. Beeton, the