King pocketed the photograph and papers. "I'm well enough content,
sir, as things are," he said quietly.

"Well, remember she's ambitious, even if you're not! I'm not
preaching ambition, mind--I'm warning you! Ambition's bad! Study
those papers on your way down to Delhi and see that I get them back."

The general paced once across the room and once back again, with
hands behind him. Then he stopped in front of King.

"No man in India has a stiffer task than you have now! It may
encourage you to know that I realize that! She's the key to the
puzzle, and she happens to be in Delhi. Go to Delhi, then. A
jihad launched from the 'Hills' would mean anarchy in the plains.
That would entail sending back from France an army that can't be
spared. There must be no jihad, King!--There must--not--be--one!
Keep that in your head!"

"What arrangements have been made with her, sir?"

"Practically none! She's watching the spies in Delhi, but they're
likely to break for the 'Hills' any minute. Then they'll be arrested.
When that happens the fate of India may be in your hands and hers!
Get out of my way now, until tiffin-time!"

In a way that some men never learn, King proceeded to efface himself
entirely among the crowd in the hall, contriving to say nothing
of any account to anybody until the great gong boomed and the general
led them all in to his long dining table. Yet he did not look
furtive or secretive. Nobody noticed him, and he noticed everybody.