"Well, then, the thing to do is to emulate the mugger. But
this"--Hodson lifted the paper and he grew crisp, incisive, his grey
eyes blued like temper purpling polished steel--"we've got to act:
they've got to be delivered, and soon."

"I am ready, Sir."

"It's a dangerous mission--most dangerous."

"Pardon, Sir?"

"Sorry, Captain. I was just thinking aloud--musing; forgive me.
Perhaps when one likes a young man he lets the paternal spirit come in
where it doesn't belong. I'm sorry. There's a trusty Patan here who
could go with you," Hodson continued, "and this side of his own border
he is absolutely to be trusted; I have my doubts if any Patan can be
relied upon by us across the border."

"I will go alone," Barlow said quietly. Then his strong white teeth
showed in a smile. "You know the Moslem saying, Colonel, that ten
Dervishes can sleep on one blanket, but a kingdom can only hold one
king. I don't mean about the honour of it, but it will be easier for
me. I went alone through the Maris tribe when we wanted to know what
the trouble was that threatened up above the Bolan, and I had no
difficulty. You know, Sir, the playful name the chaps have given me
for years?"

"Yes--the 'Patan'--I've heard it."