“They keep mum about this thing in the capital, but I’ve been piecing the story together these last days and I think I’ve got it straight. A fortnight ago old man Nicholas descended from his mountains and scuppered his enemies there—at Kuprikeui, where the main road eastwards crosses the Araxes. That was only the beginning of the stunt, for he pressed on on a broad front, and the gentleman called Kiamil, who commands in those parts, was not up to the job of holding him. The Buzzards were shepherded in from north and east and south, and now the Muscovite is sitting down outside the forts of Erzerum. I can tell you they’re pretty miserable about the situation in the highest quarters ... Enver is sweating blood to get fresh divisions to Erzerum from Gally-poly, but it’s a long road and it looks as if they would be too late for the fair ... You and I, Major, start for Mesopotamy tomorrow, and that’s about the meanest bit of bad luck that ever happened to John S. We’re missing the chance of seeing the goriest fight of this campaign.”
I picked up the map and pocketed it. Maps were my business, and I had been looking for one.
“We’re not going to Mesopotamia,” I said. “Our orders have been cancelled.”
“But I’ve just seen Enver, and he said he had sent round our passports.”
“They’re in the fire,” I said. “The right ones will come along tomorrow morning.”
Sandy broke in, his eyes bright with excitement.
“The great hills! ... We’re going to Erzerum ... Don’t you see that the Germans are playing their big card? They’re sending Greenmantle to the point of danger in the hope that his coming will rally the Turkish defence. Things are beginning to move, Dick, old man. No more kicking the heels for us. We’re going to be in it up to the neck, and Heaven help the best man ... I must be off now, for I’ve a lot to do. Au revoir. We meet some time in the hills.”
Blenkiron still looked puzzled, till I told him the story of that night’s doings. As he listened, all the satisfaction went out of his face, and that funny, childish air of bewilderment crept in.
“It’s not for me to complain, for it’s in the straight line of our dooty, but I reckon there’s going to be big trouble ahead of this caravan. It’s Kismet, and we’ve got to bow. But I won’t pretend that I’m not considerable scared at the prospect.”
“Oh, so am I,” I said. “The woman frightens me into fits. We’re up against it this time all right. All the same I’m glad we’re to be let into the real star metropolitan performance. I didn’t relish the idea of touring the provinces.”