"I want you to know," he said, "that I got my information at first hand. I got it from Yasmini herself, from three of the hill-men who were present, and from the Afridi who was kicked and beaten. All except the Afridi, who wasn't there by that time, agreed that Ranjoor Singh had words with the German afterward. Eh? What's that?"
He listened again for about five minutes, and then hung up the receiver with an expression of mixed irritation and amusement.
"Caught me hopping on the wrong leg this time!" he muttered, beginning to twist at his watch-guard again.
Presently he sat up and looked bored, for he heard the fast trot of a big, long-striding horse. A minute later a high dogcart drew up in the street, and he heard a man's long—striding footsteps coming round the corner.
"Like horse, like man, like regiment!" he muttered. "Pick his stride or his horse's out of a hundred, and"—he pulled out his nickel watch—"he's ten minutes earlier than I expected him! Morning, Colonel Kirby!" he said pleasantly, as Kirby strode in, helmet in hand. "Take a seat."
He noticed Kirby's scalp was red and that he smelt more than faintly of carbolic.
"Morning!" said Kirby.
"I'm wondering what's brought you," said the man in drab.
"I've come about Ranjoor Singh," said Kirby; and the man in drab tried to look surprised.
"What about him? Reconsidered yesterday's decision?"