He smiled upon the elder brother with obvious pleasure at the prospect.  Bernard Monck always met with a welcome wherever he went, and Tommy was prepared to like any one belonging to Everard.  It was good too to see Everard with that eager light in his eyes.  During the whole of their acquaintance he had never seen him look so young.

Bernard held a somewhat different opinion, however, and as he found himself alone again with his brother he took him by the shoulders, and held him for a closer survey.

“What has India been doing to you, dear fellow?” he said.  “You look about as ancient as the Sphinx.  Been working like a dray-horse all this time?”

“Perhaps.”  Everard’s smile held something of restraint.  “We can’t all of us stand still, St. Bernard.  Perpetual youth is given only to the favoured few.”

“Ah!” The older man’s eyes narrowed a little.  For a moment there existed a curious, wholly indefinite, resembance between them.  “And you are happy?” he asked abruptly.

Everard’s eyes held a certain hardness as he replied, “Provisionally, yes.  I haven’t got all I want yet—­if that’s what you mean.  But I am on the way to getting it.”

Bernard Monck looked at him a moment longer, and let him go.  “Are you sure you’re wanting the right thing?” he said.

It was not a question that demanded an answer, and Everard made none.  He turned aside with a scarcely perceptible lift of the shoulders.

“You haven’t told me yet how you come to be here,” he said.  “Have you given up the Charthurst chaplaincy?”

“It gave me up.”  Bernard spoke quietly, but there was deep regret in his voice.  “A new governor came—­a man of curiously rigid ideas.  Anyway, I was not parson enough for him.  We couldn’t assimilate.  I tried my hardest, but we couldn’t get into touch anywhere.  I preached the law of Divine liberty to the captives.  And he—­good man! preferred to keep them safely locked in the dungeon.  I was forced to quit the position.  I had no choice.”

“What a fool!” observed Everard tersely.

Bernard’s ready smile re-appeared.  “Thanks, old chap!” he said.  “That’s just the point of view I wanted you to take.  Now I have other schemes on hand.  I’ll tell you later what they are.  I think I’d better have that cold bath next if you’re really going to take me along to mess with you.  By Jove, how it does rain!  Does it ever leave off in these parts?”

“Not very often this time of the year.  I’m not going to let you stay here for long.”  Everard spoke with his customary curt decision.  “It’s no place for fellows like you.  You must go to Bhulwana and join my wife.”

“Many thanks!” Bernard made a grotesque gesture of submission.  “What sort of woman is your wife, my son?  Do you think she will like me?”

Everard turned and smote him on the shoulder.  “Of course she will!  She will adore you.  All women do.”