Out of the silence and through the sea of hot humanity, the white of his dress-shirt showing through the unbuttoned front of a military cloak, Warrington rode a borrowed Arab pony, the pony's owner's sais running beside him to help clear a passage. Warrington was still humming to himself as he dismissed both sais and pony and climbed up beside Kirby in the dog-cart. "If Ranjoor Singh's in that house, he's in a predicament," he said cheerfully. "I went to police headquarters, and the first officer I spoke to told me to go to hell. So I went into the next office, where all the big panjandrums hide--and some of the little ones--and they told me what you know, sir, that the house is in flames and every policeman who can be spared is on the job, so I came to see. If Ranjoor Singh's in there--but I don't believe he is!" "Why don't you?" "I don't believe the Lord 'ud send us active service--not a real red war against a real enemy--and play a low-down trick on Ranjoor Singh. Ranjoor Singh's a gentleman. It wouldn't be sportsmanlike to let him die before the game begins." For a minute or two they watched the sparks go up and the crowd striking at the rats that still seemed to find some place of exit. "There's a place below there that isn't red--hot yet," said Kirby. "Those rats are not cooked through. Did you tell the police that you wanted a search warrant?" "Yes. Might as well argue with an ant-heap. All of 'em too busy tryin' for commissions in the Volunteers to listen. They've got it all cut an' dried--somebody in the basement upset a lamp, according to them--nobody up-stairs--nobody to turn in the alarm until the fire had complete charge! They offer to prove it when the fire's out and they can sort the ashes." "Um-m-m! Tell 'em a trooper of ours saw a light there?" "Yes." "What did they say?" "'Doubtless the lamp that was kicked over!'" Colonel Kirby clucked to his horse and worked a way out to the edge of the crowd with the skill of one whose business is to handle men in quantity. Then he shot like a dart up side streets and made for barracks by a detour. "Gad!" said Warrington suddenly. "Who's told 'em d'you suppose?" "Dunno, sir. News leaks in Delhi like water from a lump of ice." In the darkness of the barrack wall there were more than a thousand men, women and children, many of them Sikhs, who clamored to be told things, and by the gate was a guard of twenty men drawn up to keep the crowd at bay. The shrill voices of the women drowned the answers of the native officer as well as the noise of the approaching wheels, and the guard had to advance into the road to clear a way for its colonel. The native officer saluted and grinned. "Is it true, sahib?" he shouted, and Kirby raised his whip in the affirmative. From that instant the guard began to make more noise than the crowd beyond the wall.