"And now, my friends, I will convince you!" said the German, holding
the lantern high. "What are those?"
The light from the solitary lantern fell on rows and rows of bales,
arranged in neat straight lines, until away in the distance it
suggested endless other shadowy bales, whose outlines could be little
more than guessed at. They were in a vault so huge that Ranjoor Singh
made no attempt to estimate its size.
"See this!" said the German, walking close to something on a wooden
stand, and he held the light above it. "In the office in Delhi that
the police have just sealed up there is a wireless apparatus very
much like this. This, that you see here, is a detonator. This is
fulminate of mercury. This is dynamite. With a touch of a certain key
in Delhi we could have blown up this vault at any minute of the past
two years, if we had thought it necessary to hide our tracks. A shot
from this pistol would have much the same effect," he added darkly.
"But the bales?" asked Ranjoor Singh. "What is in the bales?"
"Dynamite bombs, my friend! You native soldiers have no artillery,
and we have seen from the first the necessity of supplying a
substitute. By making full use of the element of surprise, these
bombs should serve your purpose. There are one million of them,
packed two hundred in a bale--much more useful than artillery in the
hands of untrained men!
"Those look like bales of blankets.
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