He smiled. 'Nor I--they can't stop my promotion now. But the telegraph-office will be closed. I might get hold of some one, perhaps, by saying--No! for why shouldn't it have been sent from here! That question would stump us. We might try the railway station. Yes! of course! The wire to Fareedabad is only a railway one. Even the regular office could only pass it on. By Jove! that's lucky all round.' She caught at the idea. 'Write it out quick--there are forms in Captain Lloyd's room over there! My bicycle's ready, I'll take it. How much time have I?' 'Plenty still.' He glanced round the room they had just entered and saw another bicycle. 'I'll take that, and save you lending yours.' 'But I'm coming too,' she put in swiftly. 'I must! I'm only going, while you write, to tell the bearer to look after Jerry--he's in bed already--while I'm away. It won't take long.' She was down the stairs again as he was wheeling the cycle into the hall, the still wet telegram loose in his hand. 'Hold that a minute,' he said, 'that tyre wants a pump--it will save time in the end. It wouldn't do to have a smash--would it?' He spoke quite cheerfully. 'No!' she replied, smiling back as she helped him. 'Not if there is going to be a "weal wow," as Jerry calls it.' 'Something very like one, anyhow!' he answered. 'And you never can tell what may happen if these things aren't stopped at once. We might have them all over the place by to-morrow morning--trying to pull down the flag perhaps--who knows?' He spoke lightly again, but for all that he had thought it worth while to pocket a revolver, which had been lying on Captain Lloyd's table; and as Lesley passed out first, with her bicycle, he gave a look at the weapon to see how many chambers were loaded; that was always a wise precaution. So, being busy, neither of them saw a little figure in a scarlet flannel sleeping-suit which had stealthily followed Lesley downstairs; a listening little figure with wide grey eyes. The next instant those two were careering down the Mall, fast as wheels could carry them. 'It is a quaint cipher,' said Lesley, who, hands off, was folding the now dry telegram. 'Yes!' replied Jack Raymond absently--he was working out what had to be done. 'I might send it plain, but for the _cachet_ of authority--Heaven save the mark!--it gives. And, of course, the contents are better not known, even by the _baboo_. But I'm afraid he must know something; for I must first of all wire direct to the station-master at Fareedabad to stop the up-mail--there isn't time for the order to go through the magistrate. And that's really the thing to make sure of, for the down-mail doesn't pass Fareedabad till midnight, and it would take almost as long to get steam up from here--especially as it is Sunday and the railway people all over the place.'