King of the Khyber Rifles | Page 7

full of soldiers in the rear--a shriek from a
woman who had missed the train--a babel of farewells tossed back and
forth between the platform and the third-class carriages--and Peshawur
fell away behind.

King settled down on his side of the compartment, after a struggle with
the thermantidote that refused to work. There was heat enough below
the roof to have roasted meat, so that the physical atmosphere became
as turgid as the mental after a little while.
Hyde all but stripped himself and drew on striped pajamas. King was
content to lie in shirt-sleeves on the other berth, with knees raised, so
that Hyde could not overlook the general's papers. At his ease he
studied them one by one, memorizing a string of names, with details as
to their owners' antecedents and probable present whereabouts. There
were several photographs in the packet, and he studied them very
carefully indeed.
But much most carefully of all he examined Yasmini's portrait,
returning to it again and again. He reached the conclusion in the end
that when it was taken she had been cunningly disguised.
"This was intended for purpose of identification at a given time and
place," he told himself.
"Were you muttering at me?" asked Hyde.
"No, sir."
"It looked extremely like it!"
"My mistake, sir. Nothing of the sort intended."
"H-rrrrr-ummmmmph!"
Hyde turned an indignant back on him, and King studied the back as if
he found it interesting. On the whole he looked sympathetic, so it was
as well that Hyde did not look around. Balked ambition as a rule
loathes sympathy.
After many prickly-hot, interminable, jolting hours the train drew up at
Rawal-Pindi station. Instantly King was on his feet with his tunic on,
and he was out on the blazing hot platform before the train's motion

had quite ceased.
He began to walk up and down, not elbowing but percolating through
the crowd, missing nothing worth noticing in all the hot kaleidoscope
and seeming to find new amusement at every turn. It was not in the
least astonishing that a well-dressed native should address him
presently, for he looked genial enough to be asked to hold a baby. King
himself did not seem surprised at all. Far from it; he looked pleased.
"Excuse me, sir," said the man in glib babu English. "I am seeking
Captain King sahib, for whom my brother is veree anxious to be
servant. Can you kindlee tell me, sir, where I could find Captain King
sahib?"
"Certainly," King answered him. He looked glad to be of help. "Are
you traveling on this train?"
The question sounded like politeness welling from the lips of
unsuspicion.
"Yes, sir. I am traveling from this place where I have spent a few days,
to Bombay, where my business is.
"How did you know King sahib is on the train?" King asked him,
smiling so genially that even the police could not have charged him
with more than curiosity.
"By telegram, sir. My brother had the misfortune to miss Captain King
sahib at Peshawur and therefore sent a telegram to me asking me to do
what I can at an interview."
"I see," said King. "I see." And judging by the sparkle in his eyes as he
looked away he could see a lot. But the native could not see his eyes at
that instant, although he tried to.
He looked back at the train, giving the man a good chance to study his
face in profile. "Oh, thank you, sir!" said the native oilily. "You are
most kind! I am your humble servant, sir!"

King nodded good-by to him, his dark eyes in the shadow of the khaki
helmet seeming scarcely interested any longer.
"Couldn't you find another berth?" Hyde asked him angrily when he
stepped back into the compartment.
"What were you out there looking for?"
King smiled back at him blandly.
"I think there are railway thieves on the train," he announced without
any effort at relevance. He might not have heard the question.
"What makes you think so?"
"Observation, sir." "Oh! Then if you've seen thieves, why didn't you
have 'em arrested? You were precious free with that authority of yours
on Peshawur platform!"
"Perhaps You'd care to take the responsibility, sir? Let me point out one
of them."
Full of grudging curiosity Hyde came to stand by him, and King
stepped back just as the train began to move.
"That man, sir--over there--no, beyond him--there!"
Hyde thrust head and shoulders through the window, and a
well-dressed native with one foot on the running-board at the back end
of the train took a long steady stare at him before jumping in and
slamming the door of a third-class carriage.
"Which one?" demanded Hyde impatiently.
"I don't see him now, sir!"
Hyde snorted and returned to