He saw--Indian bungalows are open through and through--the Englishman return to a small dressing-room, in a corner of the veranda, that was half-office, littered with papers and despatch-boxes, and sit down to study Mahbub Ali's message. His face, by the full ray of the kerosene lamp, changed and darkened, and Kim, used as every beggar must be to watching countenances, took good note. 'Will! Will, dear!' called a woman's voice. 'You ought to be in the drawing-room. They'll be here in a minute.' The man still read intently. 'Will!' said the voice, five minutes later. 'He's come. I can hear the troopers in the drive.' The man dashed out bareheaded as a big landau with four native troopers behind it halted at the veranda, and a tall, black-haired man, erect as an arrow, swung out, preceded by a young officer who laughed pleasantly. Flat on his belly lay Kim, almost touching the high wheels. His man and the black stranger exchanged two sentences. 'Certainly, sir,' said the young officer promptly. 'Everything waits while a horse is concerned.' 'We shan't be more than twenty minutes,' said Kim's man. 'You can do the honours--keep 'em amused, and all that.' 'Tell one of the troopers to wait,' said the tall man, and they both passed into the dressing-room together as the landau rolled away. Kim saw their heads bent over Mahbub Ali's message, and heard the voices--one low and deferential, the other sharp and decisive. 'It isn't a question of weeks. It is a question of days--hours almost,' said the elder. 'I'd been expecting it for some time, but this'--he tapped Mahbub Ali's paper--'clenches it. Grogan's dining here to-night, isn't he?' 'Yes, sir, and Macklin too.' 'Very good. I'll speak to them myself. That matter will be referred to the Council, of course, but this is a case where one is justified in assuming that we take action at once. Warn the Pindi and Peshawur brigades. It will disorganise all the summer reliefs, but we can't help that. This comes of not smashing them thoroughly the first time. Eight thousand should be enough.' 'What about artillery, sir?' 'I must consult Macklin.' 'Then it means war?' 'No. Punishment. When a man is bound by the action of his predecessor--' 'But C.25 may have lied.' 'He bears out the other's information. Practically, they showed their hand six months back. But Devenish would have it there was a chance of peace. Of course they used it to make themselves stronger. Send off those telegrams at once,--the new code, not the old,--mine and Wharton's. I don't think we need keep the ladies waiting any longer. We can settle the rest over the cigars. I thought it was coming. It's punishment--not war.' As the trooper cantered off Kim crawled round to the back of the house, where, going on his Lahore experiences, he judged there would be food--and information. The kitchen was crowded with excited scullions, one of whom kicked him.