As you say, there's martial law now, he's the man
to see."
"Colonel Kirby," said the man in drab, twisting at his watch-guard
furiously, "if you'll tell me what's in your sealed orders--open them
and see--I'll tell you what I know about Ranjoor Singh, and we'll
call it a bargain!"
"I wasn't joking," said Kirby, turning red as his scalp from the
roots of his hair to his collar.
"I'm in deadly earnest!" said the man in drab.
So, without a word more, Colonel Kirby hurried out again, carrying
his saber in his left hand at an angle that was peculiar to him, and
that illustrated determination better than words could have done.
His huge horse plunged away almost before he had gained the seat,
and, saber and all, he gained the seat at a step-and-a-jump. But the
sais was not up behind, and Kirby had scarcely settled down to drive
before the man in drab had the telephone mouthpiece to his lips and
had given his mysterious number again--4-3-2-9-2.
"He's coming, sir!" he said curtly.
Somebody at the other end apparently asked, "Who is coming?" for the
man in drab answered:
"Kirby."
* * * * *
Five minutes later Kirby caught a general at breakfast, and was
received with courtesy and feigned surprise.
"D'you happen to know anything about my risaldar-major, Ranjoor
Singh?" asked Kirby, after a hasty apology for bursting in.
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