aptain Chutney," he begins abruptly, "you leave for India tomorrow?"

"India Mail, eight o'clock in the morning," Guy replies briefly.

"Very well. We are going to intrust you with a very important
commission. You will stop off at Aden, cross the Gulf of Aden in the
semi-weekly steamer, and present these documents to Sir Arthur Ashby,
the Political Resident of Zaila, the fortified town of the Somali Coast
Protectorate."

The secretary hands Guy two bulky envelopes, stamped and sealed with the
government seal.

"They relate to affairs of importance," he continues. "Your gallant
record 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