Stevenson looked concerned. ‘Sir, please lie back. I sent for the doctor the moment you began to stir. He will be here any moment. Just rest.’

For a moment Arthur was determined that rest was the last thing he would do, especially since he had been out of action for over three days.Then his strength gave out and he slumped back on the bed, breathing hard. He waited a moment until he had recovered and then turned his head to Stevenson.

‘What’s happened since I was brought here?’

‘Nothing, sir. There’s been no news of any raids, and the frontier with Holkar is holding fast, as far as I know. He’s given us little trouble for nearly a month now. I think the danger from that quarter has passed. For now, at least.’

‘Thank God,’ Arthur replied quietly. ‘I think I am about done in this country. One more campaign would break me.’

The door to the room opened, admitting a shaft of light that made Arthur squint, before the new arrival closed it and strode across to his bed.

‘Ah, so you’re with us again, sir?’ The doctor leaned over the bed, grasped Arthur’s hand in a powerful grip and pumped it.‘I’m Hollingsworth, a Company surgeon. You’re probably a bit too dazed to recall me, eh?’

Arthur nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No matter.’ The doctor straightened up. ‘Have to say I was very worried about you when they brought you in, sir. Looked like you was in a bloody coma.’

‘What is wrong with me?’

‘Same thing that’s wrong with most men who have served in this land for long enough. Exhaustion, that’s what. It’s time for you to quit India. While you still can.You need a long rest and a change of climate, sir.’

‘I just need a rest. A few days and then I’ll be back on duty.’

‘Ah, no, sir. Not at all. I know the symptoms. Trust me, you either take my advice and take the first ship you can back to Britain, or have yourself measured up for a coffin.’

‘Balderdash.’

The doctor smiled kindly. ‘India has broken your health, sir. You must accept that and return home, or you will die here. Now, as you are back with us, I’ll see to it that you’re started on a diet of good broth. I’ll see you again later, sir.’

Once the doctor had left the room Arthur closed his eyes for a moment. There was no denying how his body felt. How his mind felt, for that matter. He found it an effort to merely think, let alone talk.

‘Sir?’

‘Yes, Stevenson.’

‘Is there anything I can do for you?’

‘Not now. I need sleep. But when I wake, I’ll need you to take down a letter for me, to my brother Richard . . .’