d justifies us in intrusting the papers to your care. You can
return in time to take the next steamer. Perhaps I had better tell you
this much in confidence," the secretary adds:

"We have received from certain sources information to the effect that
the Emir of Harar, on the southern harbor of Abyssinia, contemplates at
no distant date an attack on Zaila. Our garrison there is weak, and, as
you probably know, the Somali country is treacherous and unreliable.
These papers contain necessary instructions for the Political Resident."

The secretary rises, and Guy gladly follows his example.

"I will see that the papers are delivered," he says earnestly.

"Thank you," the secretary responded. "I am sure that you will. I wish
you a safe voyage, Captain Chutney, and fresh Burmese laurels, for you
will no doubt take part in the Chittagong expedition."

They shake hands warmly, and in five minutes Guy is rattling cityward
again through the increasing fog. Long afterward he looks back on that
morning as the most memorable day of his life. At present his commission
sits lightly on his mind. He attends to all his duties in London,
catches the India Mail, and two days later is steaming across the
Mediterranean on board the P. and O. steamship Cleopatra.

CHAPTER I.

THE STOLEN DESPATCHES.

Steadily the Cleopatra had traversed the Mediterranean, passed through
the Suez Canal, plowed the burning waters of the Red Sea, and now, on
this bright, sultry day, Aden was left behind, and with smoking funnels
she was heading swiftly and boldly for the Indian Ocean.

A smaller steamer, a mere pigmy beside this gigantic Indian liner, had
left the harbor of Aden at the same time, and was beating in a
southwesterly direction across the gulf with a speed that was rapidly
increasing the distance between the two vessels.

On the upper deck stood Guy Chutney, straining his eyes through a pair
of field-glasses to catch a last glimpse of the Cleopatra, and to
distinguish, if possible, the figures grouped under the white awnings.
He had only arrived at Aden last night, and now he was bound for the
dreary African coast, while all the gay friends he had made on board the
Cleopatra were steaming merrily off for Calcutta without him.

It was by no means a comforting state of affairs, and Guy's spirits were
at their lowest ebb as the steamer finally faded into the horizon. He
put up the glasses and strode forward. From the lower deck came a