The three letters at the end were the general's coded signature.
The wording of the telegram was such that as he read King saw a
mental picture of the general's bald red skull and could almost
hear him say the "fail to understand." The three words 'much less
satisfactory" were a bookful of information. So, as he folded up
the telegram, tore the penciled strip of figures from the top and
burned it with a match, he was at pains to look pleased.

"Good news?" asked Saunders, blowing smoke through his nose.

"Excellent. Where's my man? Here--you--Ismail!"

The giant came and towered above him.

"You swore she went North!"

"Ha, sahib! To Peshawur she went!"

"Did she start from this station?"

"From where else, sahib?"

But this was too much for Saunders, who stepped forward and thrust
in an oar. King on the other band stepped back a pace so as to
watch both faces.

"Then, when did she go?"

"I saw her go!" said Ismail, affronted.