The last three words were lost, for Captain Warrington had turned into a thunderbolt and disappeared; the noise of his going was as when a sudden windstorm slams all the doors at once. A moment later he could be heard shouting from outside his quarters to his servant to be ready for him.
He certainly bathed, for the noise of the tub overturning when he was done with it was unmistakable. And eight minutes after his departure he was back again, dressed, cloaked and ready.
"Got your pistol, sir?"
"Yes," said Kirby.
"Thought I'd bring mine along. You never know, you know."
Together they climbed into the colonel's dog-cart, well smothered under waterproofs. Kirby touched up another of his road-devouring walers, the sais grabbed at the back seat and jumped for his life, and they shot out of the compound, down the line of useless cannon and out into the street, taking the corner as the honor of the regiment required. Then the two big side-lamps sent their shafts of light straight down the metaled, muddy road, and the horse settled down between them to do his equine "demdest"; there was a touch on the reins he recognized.
* * * * *
They reached the edge of the bazaar to find the crowd stirring, although strangely mute.
"They'll have got the news in an hour from now," said Kirby. "They can smell it already."
"Wonder how much truth there is in all this talk about German merchants and propaganda."