"What about him? Reconsidered yesterday's decision?"
"No," said Kirby. "I've come to ask what news you have of him." And
Kirby's eye, that some men seemed to think so like a bird's,
transfixed the man in drab, so that he squirmed as if he had been
impaled.
"You must understand, Colonel Kirby--in fact, I'm sure you do
understand--that my business doesn't admit of confidences. Even if I
wanted to divulge information, I'm not allowed to. I stretched a
point yesterday when I confided in you my suspicions regarding
Ranjoor Singh, but that doesn't imply that I'm going to tell you all
I know. I asked you what _you_ knew, you may remember."
"I told you!" snapped Kirby. "Is Ranjoor Singh still under suspicion?"
That was a straight question of the true Kirby type that admitted of
no evasion, and the man in drab pulled his watch out, knocking it on
the desk absent-mindedly, as if it were an egg that he wished to
crack. He must either answer or not, it seemed, so he did neither.
"Why do you ask?" he parried.
"I've a right to know! Ranjoor Singh's my wing commander, and a
better officer or a more loyal gentleman doesn't exist. I want him! I
want to know where he is! And if he's under a cloud, I want to know
why! Where is he?"
"I don't know where he is," said the man in drab. "Is he--ah--absent
without leave?"
"Certainly not!" said Kirby.
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