Crandall started from his chair, but the uselessness of his bare hands against the snub-nosed thing of blue metal covering him struck home. He sank back with a groan. Keeping them both carefully covered, Jaimihr moved to the desk telephone at the general's elbow. He took from his sash a small piece of paper--the one he had saved from the packet of papers taken from the safe--laid it on the edge of the desk, and with his left hand he picked up the telephone. An instant of tense silence, broken by the wheezing of the general's breath, then---- "Nine-two-six, if you please. Yes--yes, who is this? Ah, yes. It is I, Jaimihr Khan. Is all well with you? Good! And Bishop? Slain coming down the Rock--good also!" Crandall groaned. The Indian continued his conversation unperturbed. "Veree good! Listen closely. I can not come as I have promised. There is--work--for me here. But all will be well. Take down what I shall tell you." He read from the slip of paper on the desk. "Seven turns to the right, four to the left--press! Two more to the left--press! One to the right. You have that? Allah speed you. Go quickly!" [Illustration: "There is--work--for me here."] "Room D!" Crandall had leaped from his chair. "Correct, my General--Room D." Jaimihr smiled as he stepped away from the telephone, his back against the double doors. The sweat stood white on Crandall's brow; his mouth worked in jerky spasms. "What--what have you done?" he gasped. "I see the general knows too well," came the Indian's silken response. "I have given the combination of the inner door of Room D in the signal tower to a--friend. He is on his way to the tower. He will be admitted--one of the few men on the Rock who could be admitted at this hour, my General. One pull of the switches in Room D--and where will England's great fleet be then?" "You yellow devil!" Crandall started to rush the white figure by the doors, but his flesh quailed as the round cold muzzle met it. He staggered back. "We are going to wait, my General--and you, American Sahibah, who have pushed your way into this affair. We are going to wait--and listen--listen." The general writhed in agony. Jane, fallen into a chair by the far edge of the desk, had her head buried in her arms, and was sobbing. "And we are going to think, my General," the Indian's voice purled on. "While we wait we shall think. Who will General Crandall be after to-night--the English sahib who ruled the Rock the night the English fleet was blown to hell from inside the fortress? How many widows will curse when they hear his name? What----" "Jaimihr Khan, what have I ever done to you!" The governor's voice sounded hardly human. His face was blotched and purple.