“There’s more in the case than meets the eye,” he said suspiciously, “and I fancy, if only we could see the bottom of it, we should discover that your two proteges are as fine a pair of rascals as could be found on the Continent of Asia.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Grantham replied.  “I only know that they were a miserable couple, and that I did the best I could for them.  You wouldn’t have had me leave them in the jungle, surely?”

“I am not aware I have said so,” the other answered stiffly.  “The only thing I object to is your treating them as if they were martyrs, when in all probability they deserve all the punishment they have received.”

Grantham was too wise to carry the argument any further.  He knew that when Handiman was in his present humour the best thing to do was to leave him alone in it.  He accordingly returned to the hut where the two men were domiciled, and attended to their comfort as far as lay in his power.  His heart had been touched by their misery.  He did not give as a reason for the trouble he took, the fact that the face of the elder man reminded him of his own venerable father, the worthy old Somersetshire vicar; it was a fact, nevertheless.  For a week the unfortunate couple were domiciled at the Ford, and during that time Grantham attended to their wants with the assiduity of a blood relation.  Meanwhile Handiman scoffed and bade him take heed for his valuables, lest his new-found friends should appropriate them.  He did not believe in honest gratitude, he declared, particularly where homeless wanderers in the Burmese jungle were concerned.  At last, however, they were so far recovered as to be able to proceed on their way once more.

“We have to thank you for your lives, sir,” said Kitwater to Grantham when the time came for them to say good-bye to the Ford.  “Had it not been for you we would probably be dead men now.  I don’t know whether we shall ever be able to repay your kindness, that is with Allah, but if the opportunity should ever arise you may be sure we will not neglect it.  Whatever we may be now, you may take it that we were gentlemen once.  There’s just one favour I should like to ask of you, sir, before we part!”

“What is it?” Grantham inquired.

“I want you, sir, to give me a letter of introduction to the gentleman in your regiment, who looked after the stranger you told me of, when he came here from out of China.  I’ve got a sort of notion in my head that even if he is not our friend, that is to say the man we are searching for, he may happen to know something of him.”

“I will give you the letter with pleasure,” Grantham replied.  “I am sure Gregory will be only too pleased to help you as far as lies in his power.”

The letter was accordingly written and handed to Kitwater, who stowed it away in his pocket as if it were a priceless possession.  Then, when they had bade their protector farewell, they in their turn set off along the track that Hayle had followed two months before, and in due course arrived at Bhamo.  Here they presented the letter they had obtained to Captain Charles Pauncefort Gregory, who, as may be supposed, received it with manifest astonishment.