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The dâk bungalow at Madpur Duar was soon reached, a single-storied building with a couple of trees shading the well behind it and a group of elephants and their mahouts. On the verandah Benson and his daughter were standing, the girl dressed in a khaki drill coat and skirt over breeches and soft leather gaiters, and waving a welcome to Badshah's riders.
As the subaltern perused it with delight the Colonel said: "Ask your C.O. for leave. Then, if he gives it, get something substantial to eat in the Mess and be ready to start at once. Madpur Duar is thirty odd miles away; and we'll have to travel all night. Come to my bungalow as soon as you can." Half an hour later the two were trudging down the road to the peelkhana carrying their rifles.
"Yes, I could tell you even more extraordinary things about his power over elephants; but some day when you're in the jungle with him you may see it for yourself. Oh, isn't it hot? I do wish we were home." Arrived at the dâk bungalow the tiger's carcase was lowered to the ground and given over to the knives of the flayers summoned from the bazaar of Madpur Duar a mile away.
For little as he suspected it the senior guessed the young man's trouble and watched him sympathisingly. One never-to-be-forgotten day as Wargrave was returning from afternoon parade Colonel Dermot called to him from his gate and showed him a telegram. It ran: "Tiger marked down. Come immediately dâk bungalow, Madpur Duar. Muriel."
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