Longing for someone to confide in, someone to advise him, he went to Major Hunt and told him the whole story.  The older man rejoiced in learning of the subaltern’s release from his entanglement, but, knowing Miss Benson well, shook his head doubtfully over the chances of her forgiving Wargrave.  Nevertheless, unwilling to kill the young man’s hope, he affected a confidence that he was far from feeling and bade him take courage.  He advised him to arrange a few days’ shooting in the neighbourhood of the Bensons when he could spare the time from his duties.  The father would be sure to offer him hospitality and the daughter could not well avoid him.  In the meantime he might write and plead his cause on paper.

Wargrave sat up half the night composing a letter to Muriel.  Sheet after sheet was torn up in disgust before he was even tolerably satisfied.  But the laboured result was never sent.  Next morning after breakfast as he sat smoking in the Mess with Major Hunt and the doctor his servant entered to tell him that a forest guard wanted to see him.  A wild hope flashed through his mind that perhaps Muriel had sent him a message.  But on going out to the back verandah where the man awaited him he was handed an envelope “On His Majesty’s Service,” addressed in a strange handwriting.  He opened it and glanced carelessly at the letter, but the first lines riveted his attention.

    “Forest Officer’s Bungalow,
    Barwana Section.

    “From
    the District Superintendent of Police,
    Bengal Civil Police.

    “To
    the Assistant Political Officer,
    Ranga Duar.

    “Sir,

“Three days ago a party of Chinamen attacked and severely injured the Deputy Conservator of Forests, Mr. Benson, in this bungalow, and abducted his daughter.  They were ten or twelve in number and well armed, and over-awed the servants and forest employees.  They have been tracked towards the Bhutan Frontier and, I fear, have crossed it by this.  There was, unfortunately, much delay in the information reaching me while I was touring the district south of the forest; and I have only just arrived here.  I hasten to acquaint you with the occurrence as I am powerless if the ruffians have crossed into Bhutan.  Please request the Officer Commanding Military Police Detachment to send out parties to try to cut off the raiders from the passes through the mountains, although I fear it is too late.  Can you meet me here and confer with me?  Please bring the Medical Officer of the detachment with you, as Mr. Benson is in a bad state and no civil surgeon is available for a great distance from here.

    “Your obedient servant,
    Edward Lawrence. 
    D.S.P.”