haired man, erect as an arrow, swung out, preceded by a young
officer who laughed pleasantly.

Flat on his belly lay Kim, almost touching the high wheels. His
man and the black stranger exchanged two sentences.

'Certainly, sir,' said the young officer promptly. 'Everything
waits while a horse is concerned.'

'We shan't be more than twenty minutes,' said Kim's man. 'You can
do the honours -keep 'em amused, and all that.'

'Tell one of the troopers to wait,' said the tall man, and they
both passed into the dressing-room together as the landau rolled
away. Kim saw their heads bent over Mahbub Ali's message, and
heard the voices - one low and deferential, the other sharp and
decisive.

'It isn't a question of weeks. It is a question of days - hours
almost,' said the elder. 'I'd been expecting it for some time,
but this' - he tapped Mahbub Ali's paper - 'clinches it. Grogan's
dining here to-night, isn't he?'

'Yes, sir, and Macklin too.'

'Very good. I'll speak to them myself. The matter will be
referred to the Council, of course, but this is a case where one
is justified in assuming that we take action at once. Warn the
Pined and Peshawar brigades. It will disorganize all the summer
reliefs, but we can't help that. This comes of not smashing them