card, and she's going to play it for all she is worth. There's
no crime that will stand in her way. She has set the ball rolling, and
if need be she'll cut all her prophets' throats and run the show
herself ... I don't know about your job, for honestly I can't quite
see what you and Blenkiron are going to do. But I'm very clear about
my own duty. She's let me into the business, and I'm going to stick to
it in the hope that I'll find a chance of wrecking it ... We're moving
eastward tomorrow--with a new prophet if the old one is dead.'

'Where are you going?' I asked.

'I don't know. But I gather it's a long journey, judging by the
preparations. And it must be to a cold country, judging by the clothes
provided.'

'Well, wherever it is, we're going with you. You haven't heard the end
of our yarn. Blenkiron and I have been moving in the best circles as
skilled American engineers who are going to play Old Harry with the
British on the Tigris. I'm a pal of Enver's now, and he has offered me
his protection. The lamented Rasta brought our passports for the
journey to Mesopotamia tomorrow, but an hour ago your lady tore them up
and put them in the fire. We are going with her, and she vouchsafed
the information that it was towards the great hills.'

Sandy whistled long and low. 'I wonder what the deuce she wants with
you? This thing is getting dashed complicated, Dick ... Where, more by
token, is Blenkiron? He's the fellow to know about high politics.'

The missing Blenkiron, as Sandy spoke, entered the room with his slow,
quiet step. I could see by his carriage that for once he had no
dyspepsia, and by his eyes that he was excited.

'Say, boys,' he said, 'I've got something pretty considerable in the
way of noos. There's been big fighting on the Eastern border, and the
Buzzards have taken a bad knock.'

His hands were full of papers, from which he selected a map and spread
it on the table.

'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 nort