the Intelligence Service. It was dusk
when he had finished.

"Me go now," said the Syrian, rising.

"No you won't. You'll come with me and guide the way."

"But I geeves you informations, what more?"

"Look here, old cock, I believe you, but you're a Syrian."

"Syrian good man," protested the informer.

"Sometimes. Hands up!" said Tony, cocking his revolver suddenly.

"No' keels me--no' keels me!"

"I won't if you keep quiet. Now, push ahead--that way," said Tony,
directing him on the return route. The Syrian cursed and mumbled in
his own fiery way as he stumbled down the hill. He was annoyed.

"Here--look at this," said Tony, calling him back. The New Zealander
bent down, and, uncovering the body of the dead Turk, showed it to him.

"Uh!" shuddered the man.

"Now, keep quiet," ordered the officer, pushing him down the hill.
Stealthily they went, avoiding dug-outs, tents, and other hives of the
Turkish army. For hours they seemed to walk. Something was wrong.

"Stop!" said Tony suddenly. Instinct suggested danger. He had been
led astray. Pulling out a compass, he fixed it. The direction was
wrong. This Syrian was playing his own game. He wanted another
hundred pounds for this officer's body. It was worth more than that to
the Turkish army. And he knew it. War breeds parasites and rogues.

"You scoundrel!" said Tony, springing at the Syrian's throat. The
latter fought, kicked, and bit like a tiger. To have shot him would
have been madness, for they were now back in the centre of the Turkish
lines. Placing his great hands round the man's throat, Tony slowly
choked him into a state of collapse. Another knock on his head with
the butt of the revolver placed him in such a condition that he would
be unable to recollect his thoughts for many days. That was all the
subaltern desired. He left him. Taking a compass bearing again, he
struck out towards the beach. Luck favoured him almost till the end.
As he neared the top of the cliff which guarded the beach his foot
slipped, and he fell into a dug-out, right on the top of three Turkish
soldiers. Curses were mixed with shouts of "Allah!" Then questions
were asked. But Tony could answer none. A little flashlamp next shone
in his face. He was discovered.

"Inglees! Inglees!" exclaimed a Turk. The other two started and
chattered volubly. One lifted a rifle to finish him off, but the man
with the lamp stopped him. He knew his job. H