"Yes. Passed him in the dark, but did not recognize him by the smell. No--no! Got as near him as I could, and then leaned up against the scent to have a word with him! Musk! Never smelt anything like it in my life! Talk about girls! He must be in love with half India, and native at that! Brazen-faced young monkey! I asked him where he got the disinfectant, and he told me he fell into a mud-puddle!" "Perhaps he did," said Kirby. "Was there mud on him?" "Couldn't see. Didn't dare get so near him! Don't you think he ought to be spoken to? I mean, the eve of war's the eve of war and all that kind of thing, but--" "I wish you'd let me see the Orders of the Day," Kirby interrupted. "I want to make an addition to them." "I'll send an orderly." "Wish you would." Five minutes later Kirby sat at his private desk, while Brammle puffed at a cigar by the window. Kirby, after a lot of thinking, wrote: "Risaldar-Major Ranjoor Singh (D Squadron) assigned to special duty." He handed the orders back to Brammle, and the major eyed the addition with subdued amazement. "What'll D Squadron say?" he asked. "Remains to be seen," said Kirby. Outside in the muggy blackness that shuts down on India in the rains, Warrington walked alone, swinging a lantern and chuckling to himself as he reflected what D Squadron would be likely to invent as a reason for the smell that walked with him. For he meant to wake D Squadron and learn things. But all at once it occurred to him that he had left the babu's loin-cloth on the inside front seat of the shay; and, because if that were seen it would have given excuse for a thousand tales too many and too imaginative, he hurried in search of it, taking a short cut to where by that time the shay should be. On his way, close to his destination, he stumbled over something soft that tripped him. He stooped, swung the lantern forward, and picked up--the missing leather apron from behind the shay. The footpath on which he stood was about a yard wide; the shay could not possibly have come along it. And it certainly had been behind the shay when they left barracks. Moreover, close examination proved it to be the identical apron beyond a shadow of a doubt. Warrington began to hum to himself. And then he ceased from humming. Then he set the lantern down and stepped away from it sidewise until its light no longer shone on him. He listened, as a dog does, with intelligence and skill. Then, suddenly, he sprang and lit on a bulky mass that yielded--gasped--spluttered--did anything but yell. "So you rode on the luggage-rack behind the carriage, did you, _babuji?_" he smiled. "And curled under the apron to look like luggage when we passed the guard, eh?" "But, my God, sahib!" said a plaintive voice. "Should I walk through Delhi naked? You, who wear pants, you laugh at me, but I assure you, sahib--" "Hush!" ordered Warrington; and the babu seemed very glad to hush. "There was a note in a corner of that cloth of yours!"