"And this isn't the Arabian Nights!" he told himself. "It's Delhi--
Twentieth Century A.D.! Gad! Wouldn't the whole confounded army rock
with laughter!"
Then he stopped chuckling, to hurry faster, for a giant horn had
rooted chunks out of the blackness by the barrack gate, and now what
sounded like a racing car was tearing up the drive. The head-lights
dazzled him, but he ran and reached the colonel's porch breathless.
He was admitted at once, and found the colonel and Brammle together,
facing an aide-de-camp. In the colonel's hand was a medium-sized,
sealed envelope.
"Shall I repeat it, sir?" asked the aide-de-camp.
"Yes, if you think it necessary" answered Kirby.
"The sealed orders are not to be opened until out at sea. You are
expected to parade at dawn the day after to-morrow, and there will be
somebody from headquarters to act as guide for the occasion. In fact,
you will be guided at each point until it is time to open your
orders. No explanations will be given about anything until later on.
That's all. Good night, sir--and good luck!"
The aide-de-camp held out his hand, and Colonel Kirby shook it a
trifle perfunctorily; he was not much given to display of sentiment.
The aide-de-camp saluted, and a minute later the giant car spurned
the gravel out from under its rear wheels as it started off to warn
another regiment.
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