The Talbot Mundy Megapack. Talbot Mundy

with the case,” commanded Anthony.

      Jenkins had a peroration all prepared; he was constitutionally incapable of doing anything without calling attention to his own virtues, and he dissertated at length on the high calling of an officer until Anthony cut him short and demanded evidence.

      Jenkins bit his mustache, and swore under his breath.

      “My charge in itself is evidence,” he said, “sufficient evidence to hold the prisoner. I am withholding my chief witness for the next case.”

      “You mean that you appear as prosecutor and witness?” asked Anthony.

      “Yes—on the charge of culpable negligence.”

      “I’m willing that charge should be taken first by itself,” said Jim, and Jenkins looked vastly relieved and nodded to him.

      “Go on oath if you’re a witness,” ordered Anthony, and Jenkins duly kissed the well-worn Testament.

      “Now go ahead. I’ll write down your evidence.”

      * * * *

      Jenkins described then in great detail as to his own feelings in the matter, but vaguely as to time, how he had given orders to Catesby on the evening of the third to go and take charge of the TNT, which was subsequently stolen and recovered in Jerusalem.

      “And I ask,” he said, “that the prisoner be held for court martial on this charge, and that the other charges be taken tomorrow.”

      “Certainly not,” said Anthony. “Any questions, Major Grim?”

      Jim pinned Jenkins down to giving the exact time—first, however, getting him to boast about his excellent memory. Driven to it, Jenkins swore on oath that he had given the memorandum to Catesby shortly after five o’clock in the afternoon of the third.

      “You gave it into his hand?”

      “Yes.”

      “You swear to that?”

      “Certainly.”

      Jim put up Catesby, who told a perfectly straight story of having questioned a man named Sayed Haurani for an hour, beginning before five o’clock, at a point more than a mile away from Jenkins’ office, and by Jenkins’ orders on that date.

      Jenkins reserved cross-examination. With his eye on Charkas, whose face was the picture of indecision and mixed emotions, Jim called Sayed Haurani. The man identified Catesby and confirmed his story in all particulars.

      Jenkins tried to break down the story by bullying the witness, but failed. The man was insolently confident.

      “I ask to have the hearing postponed until I can look up this man’s antecedents,” said Jenkins. “He’s an obvious liar. This is what comes of turning an accused officer loose to suborn evidence in the bazaar.”

      Anthony waved the objection aside, and Jenkins grew still more uncomfortable.

      “Either this witness is committing perjury, or I did,” he blustered. “It’s no joking matter.”

      “Obviously,” said Anthony, again without looking up. “Call your next witness if you have one, Major Grim.”

      Then Aaronsohn stood up before the desk and confirmed Sayed Haurani’s evidence, explaining how he had disbelieved the man at the time and had dismissed him for returning from the station late. He gave the Arab a high character for everything except discipline, describing him as an insolently disobedient man, who did not trouble himself to lie about things as a rule, but shook off rebuke with an air of bold indifference.

      At last Anthony began to look very hard at Jenkins, who avoided his gaze by pretending to look about the room for someone who was not there. Jim had his eye on Charkas. A great deal depended now on the effect that what had gone before had had on Charkas.

      “Perhaps you’d like to re-examine General Jenkins yourself sir?” he asked Anthony.

      Anthony took the cue, and grilled the brigadier on each point of his evidence, reducing him at last to a state of boiling anger bordering on insubordination.

      “If I’m charged with lying on oath I’d like to know it,” he snapped.

      “Stand down, sir,” ordered Anthony.

      “Ibrahim Charkas,” ordered Jim.

      He met Charkas’ eye and glanced meaningly at Jenkins, but there was no need. The Arab had seen which was the cat was jumping, and decided there was more profit for himself in contributing to Jenkins’ downfall than in trying to support him.

      He could not tell the truth, of course; that would have been too much to expect of him. But he blurted out the whole story of the plot to ruin the Zionists, and accused Jenkins of having not only suggested it but of having paid for it as well. And instead of admitting the theft of the TNT memorandum, he accused Jenkins of having given it to him.

      * * * *

      That was enough for that morning. It was only a preliminary hearing, not a court martial.

      Anthony decided to postpone the hearing of the case against Charkas and the other thieves. He dismissed charges against Catesby, entering against them the two words “honorably discharged” for future reference. The two soldiers who had stood guard over Catesby were then formally transferred to “Jinks,” who marched off to his own tent a prisoner.

      Anthony had turned to Aaronsohn to tell him that pending the trial of the thieves there would be no restraint on his movements or implication against him, when there was a disturbance at the door. A sentry came to explain.

      “Admit him,” said Anthony, and in marched Narayan Singh, with his uniform in shreds and the marks of a strenuous fight all over him.

      He was bleeding slightly in one or two places, and one eye was nearly closed.

      “Well?” demanded Anthony. “What does this mean?”

      “The iblis, sahib.”

      “What of him?”

      “I took four men and stalked him all through the night. He was dancing again. We came up with him and he ran. We followed. He ran very fast, skipping like a he-goat, but the moon favored us and we kept him in view.

      “He came to bay at last in a nullah, and we called on him to surrender. He did not answer, but started to make magic to frighten us, waving with his arms thus—and thus. I gave the order to make him prisoner. So we left our rifles in charge of one man, and four of us rushed in to seize him.”

      “And didn’t find it so easy, eh?”

      “Nay, sahib, far from easy. He fought as I have never known a man to fight. He was stronger than a leopard. He struck with hands and feet—bit with his teeth—and all but tore the four of us limb from limb. And the man who held the rifles could not shoot because of the darkness and the risk of killing one of us. At last he had three of us senseless, but I broke loose from his hold and limped back for my rifle.”

      “Senseless, eh? Where are they now?”

      “In hospital, general sahib. They were able to crawl home.”

      “You haven’t told us where the iblis is,” said Jim.

      “Safe in jehannum, sahib.”

      “Dead, d’you mean?” asked Anthony. “How?”

      “He died a natural death, general sahib.”

      “What—fell dead, d’you mean? Apoplexy—over-exertion or something?”

      “Nay, sahib; my bayonet took him under the ribs and so upwards. He was a good fighter. The account is square between us.”

      “Where’s the body? Did you leave it there?”

      “Nay, general sahib. It says on the paper I should bring the prisoner in. We dragged it all the way between us, taking