am a good Turk, and I
fought beside the English in Kordofan and learned their tongue. I live
only to see the ruin of Enver, who has beggared my family and slain my
twin brother. Therefore I serve the _Muscov ghiaours_.'

'I don't know what the Musky jaws are, but if you mean the Russians I'm
with you. I've got news for them which will make Enver green. The
question is, how I'm to get to them, and that is where you shall help
me, my friend.'

'How?'

'By playing that little tune of yours again. Tell them to expect
within the next half-hour a deserter with an important message. Tell
them, for God's sake, not to fire at anybody till they've made certain
it isn't me.'

The man took the blunt end of his bayonet and squatted beside the bell.
The first stroke brought out a clear, searching note which floated down
the valley. He struck three notes at slow intervals. For all the
world, Peter said, he was like a telegraph operator calling up a
station.

'Send the message in English,' said Peter.

'They may not understand it,' said the man.

'Then send it any way you like. I trust you, for we are brothers.'

After ten minutes the man ceased and listened. From far away came the
sound of a trench-gong, the kind of thing they used on the Western
Front to give the gas-alarm.

'They say they will be ready,' he said. 'I cannot take down messages
in the darkness, but they have given me the signal which means
"Consent".'

'Come, that is pretty good,' said Peter. 'And now I must be moving.
You take a hint from me. When you hear big firing up to the north get
ready to beat a quick retreat, for it will be all up with that city of
yours. And tell your folk, too, that they're making a bad mistake
letting those fool Germans rule their land. Let them hang Enver and
his little friends, and we'll be happy once more.'

'May Satan receive his soul!' said the Turk. 'There is wire before us,
but I will show you a way through. The guns this evening made many
rents in it. But haste, for a working party may be here presently to
repair it. Remember there is much wire before the other lines.'

Peter, with certain directions, found it pretty easy to make his way
through the entanglement. There was one bit which scraped a hole in
his back, but very soon he had come to the last posts and found himself
in open country. The place, he said, was a graveyard of the unburied
dead that smelt horribly as he crawled among them. He