"Quick! The combination," he said. "Over the phone--afraid I might not have it right--stopped here on my way to the tower--be there in less than three minutes if you can hold these people." "Everything is all right?" Jaimihr asked suspiciously. "You mean Bishop? Yes. Quick, the combination!" Jaimihr picked the slip of paper containing the formula from the edge of the desk with his disengaged left hand and passed it to Woodhouse. The latter stretched out his hand, grasped the Indian's with a lightning move, and threw it over so that the latter was off his balance. In a twinkling Woodhouse's left hand had wrenched the revolver from Jaimihr's right and pinioned it behind his back. The whole movement was accomplished in half a breath. Jaimihr Khan knelt in agony, and in peril of a broken wrist, at the white man's feet, disarmed, harmless. Woodhouse put a silver whistle to his lips and blew three short blasts. A tramp of feet in the hallway outside, and four soldiers with guns filled the doorway. "Take this man!" Woodhouse commanded. The Indian, in a frenzy, writhed and shrieked: "Traitor! English spy! Dog of an unbeliever!" The soldiers jerked him to his feet and dragged him out; his ravings died away in the passage. Woodhouse brought his hand up in a salute as he faced General Crandall. "The other spy, Almer, of the Hotel Splendide, has just been arrested, sir. Major Bishop has taken charge of him and has lodged him in the cells." A high-pitched scream sounded behind Lady Crandall's door, and a pounding on the panels. Jane Gerson, first to recover from the shock of surprise, ran to unlock the door. Lady Crandall, in a dressing gown, burst into the library and flung herself on her husband. "George--George! What does all this mean--yells--whistling----" General Crandall gave his wife a pat on the shoulder and put her aside with a mechanical gesture. He took a step toward Woodhouse, who still stood stiffly before the opened doors; the dazed governor walked like a somnambulist. "Who--who the devil are you, sir?" he managed to splutter. "I am Captain Cavendish, General." Again the hand came to stiff salute on the visor of the pith helmet. "Captain Cavendish, of the signal service, stationed at Khartum, but lately detached for special service under the intelligence office in Downing Street." The man's eyes jumped for an instant to seek Jane Gerson's face--found a smile breaking through the lines of doubt there. "Your papers to prove your identity!" Crandall demanded, still in a fog of bewilderment.