They had started for the station entrance when a nasal voice began intoning, “Cap-teen King sahib--Cap-teen King sahib!” and a telegraph messenger passed them with his book under his arm. King whistled him. A moment later he was tearing open an official urgent telegram and writing a string of figures in pencil across the top. Then he decoded swiftly, “Advices are Yasmini was in Delhi as recently as six this evening. Fail to understand your inability to get in touch. Have you tried at her house? Matters in Khyber district much less satisfactory. Word from O-C Khyber Rifles to effect that lashkar is collecting. Better sweep up in Delhi and proceed northward as quickly as compatible with caution. L. M. L.” The three letters at the end were the general's coded signature. The wording of the telegram was such that as he read King saw a mental picture of the general's bald red skull and could almost hear him say the “fail to understand.” The three words “much less satisfactory” were a bookful of information. So, as he folded up the telegram, tore the penciled strip of figures from the top and burned it with a match, he was at pains to look pleased. “Good news?” asked Saunders, blowing smoke through his nose. “Excellent. Where's my man? Here--you--Ismail!” The giant came and towered above him. “You swore she went North!” “Ha, sahib! To Peshawur she went!” “Did she start from this station?” “From where else, sahib?” But this was too much for Saunders, who stepped forward and thrust in an oar. King on the other hand stepped back a pace so as to watch both faces. “Then, when did she go?” “I saw her go!” said Ismail, affronted. “When? When, confound you! When?” “Yesterday.” “I expect he means to-morrow,” said King. With the advantage of looker-on and a very deep experience of Northerners, he had noted that Ismail was lying and that Saunders was growing doubtful, although both men concealed the truth with what was very close to being art. “I have a telegram here,” he said, “that says she is in Delhi!” He patted his coat, where the inner pocket bulged. “Nay, then the tar lies, for I saw her go with these two eyes of mine!” “It is not wise to lie to me, my friend,” King assured him, so pleasantly that none could doubt he was telling truth. “If I lie may I eat dirt!” Ismail answered him. Inches lent the Afridi dignity, but dignity has often been used as a stalking horse for untruth. King nodded, and it was not possible to judge by his expression whether he believed or not. “Let's make a move,” he said, turning to Saunders. “She seems at any rate to wish it believed she has gone North. I can't stay here indefinitely. If she's here she's on the watch here, and there's no need of me. If she has gone North, then that is where the kites are wheeling! I'll take the early morning train. Where are the prisoners?”