The last three words were lost, for Captain Warrington had turned into a thunderbolt and disappeared; the noise of his going was as when a sudden windstorm slams all the doors at once. A moment later he could be heard shouting from outside his quarters to his servant to be ready for him. He certainly bathed, for the noise of the tub overturning when he was done with it was unmistakable. And eight minutes after his departure he was back again, dressed, cloaked and ready. "Got your pistol, sir?" "Yes," said Kirby. "Thought I'd bring mine along. You never know, you know." Together they climbed into the colonel's dog-cart, well smothered under waterproofs. Kirby touched up another of his road-devouring walers, the sais grabbed at the back seat and jumped for his life, and they shot out of the compound, down the line of useless cannon and out into the street, taking the corner as the honor of the regiment required. Then the two big side-lamps sent their shafts of light straight down the metaled, muddy road, and the horse settled down between them to do his equine "demdest"; there was a touch on the reins he recognized. * * * * * They reached the edge of the bazaar to find the crowd stirring, although strangely mute. "They'll have got the news in an hour from now," said Kirby. "They can smell it already." "Wonder how much truth there is in all this talk about German merchants and propaganda." "_H-rrrrr-ummm_!" said Kirby. "Steady, sir! Lookout!" The near wheel missed a native woman by a fraction of an inch, and her shrill scream followed them. But Kirby kept his eyes ahead, and the shadows continued to flash by them in a swift procession until Warrington leaned forward, and then Kirby leaned back against the reins. "There he is, sir!" They reined to a halt, and a drenched trooper jumped up behind to kneel on the back seat and speak in whispers. "No sign of him at all?" asked Kirby. "No, sahib. But there has been a light behind a shutter above there. It comes and goes. They light it and extinguish it." "Has anybody come out of that door?" "No, sahib." "None gone in?" "None." "Any other door to the place?" "There may be a dozen, sahib. That is an old house, and it backs up against six others." "What we suffer from in this country is information," said Warrington, beginning to hum to himself. But Kirby signed to the trooper, and the man began to scramble out of the cart. "Between now and our return, report to the club if anything happens," called Warrington. The whip swished, the horse shot forward, and they were off again as if they would catch up with the hurrying seconds. People scattered to the right and left in front of them; a constable at a street crossing blew his whistle frantically; once the horse slipped in a deep puddle, and all but came to earth; but they reached the club without mishap and drove up the winding drive at a speed more in keeping with convention.