of miracles--he filtered toward the telegraph office. The native
who had followed him all this time drew closer, but he did not let
himself be troubled by that.

He whispered proof of his identity to the telegraph clerk, who was
a Royal Engineer, new to that job that morning, and a sealed telegram
was handed to him at once. The "shadow" came very close indeed,
presumably to try and read over his shoulder from behind, but he
side-stepped into a corner and read the telegram with his back to
the wall.

It was in English, no doubt to escape suspicion; and because it
was war-time, and the censorship had closed on India like a
throttling string, it was not in code. So the wording, all things
considered, had to be ingenious, for the Mirza Ali, of the Fort,
Bombay, to whom it was addressed, could scarcely be expected to
read more than between the lines. The lines had to be there to
read between.

"Cattle intended for slaughter," it ran, "despatched Bombay on
Fourteen down. Meet train. Will be inspected en route, but should
be dealt with carefully, on arrival. Cattle inclined to stampede
owing to bad scare received to North of Delhi. Take all precautions
and notify Abdul." It was signed "Suliman."

"Good!" be chuckled. "Let's hope we get Abdul too. I wonder who
he is!"

Still uninterested in the man who shadowed him, he walked back to
the office window and wrote two telegrams; one to Bombay, ordering