"Gunboat Penguin, Captain Durward, bound for Bombay. Who are you?" came the answer.
"Lieutenant Thesiger Smith, of the Imperturbable, bound for Karachi."
"The deuce you are! What do you call that vessel of yours?"
"My pet lamb," replied Smith, grinning. "I say, sir, I've no time for explanations. Are you policing these seas?"
"This is my beat. Why?"
"Some Baluchis are gun-running fifty miles up the coast, that's all. Thought you'd like to know."
"Are they, begad! Thanks for the tip. Can you describe the spot?"
"A tiny village lying behind a point. A river runs through it, and there's a short jetty. Sorry I can't give you latitude and longitude. You'll catch 'em if you hurry up. Hope you will, and—run 'em in. Good-bye."
He set the engine at full speed again, and as the aeroplane soared on like a swallow its departure was followed by a lusty British cheer.
"Three hours late, mister," Rodier bawled in Smith's ear.