“Use your own judgment,” I answered.

“You mustn’t ask questions.”

“All right.”

“If any one in the Administration pounces on you in the course of it, you’ll have to drop out and know nothing.”

“Agreed.”

“It may prove a bit more risky than the El-Kerak business.”

“Couldn’t be,” I answered.

“You can’t talk enough Arabic to get away with.  But could you act deaf and dumb?”

“Sure—­in three languages.”

“You understand—­I’ve no authority to let you in on this.  I might catch hell if I were found out doing it.  But I need help, of a certain sort.  I want a man who isn’t likely to be spotted by the gang I’m after.  Get behind that screen—­quick!”

It was a screen that hid a door leading to the pantry and the servants’ quarters.  There was a Windsor chair behind it, and it is much easier to keep absolutely still when you are fairly comfortable.  I had hardly sat down when a man wearing spurs, who trod heavily, entered the room and I heard Grim get up to greet him.

“Are we alone?” a voice asked gruffly.

Instead of answering Grim came and looked behind the screen, opened the door leading to the pantry, closed it again, locked it, and without as much as a glance at me returned to face his visitor.

“Well, general, what is it?”

“This is strictly secret.”

“I’ll bet it isn’t,” said Grim.  “If it’s about missing explosives I know more than you do.”

“My God!  It’s out?  Two tons of TNT intended for the air force gone without a trace?  The story’s out?”

“I know it.  Catesby sent me word by messenger last night from Ludd, after you put him under arrest.”

“Damn the man!  Well, that’s what’s happened.  Catesby’s fault.  They’ll blame me.  The truck containing the stuff was run into a siding three days ago.  Through young Catesby’s negligence it was left there without a guard.  Catesby will be broke for that as sure as my name is Jenkins.  But, by the knell of hell’s bells, Grim, more than Catesby will lose their jobs unless we find the stuff!  Two tons.  Half enough to blow up Palestine!”

“Too bad about Catesby,” said Grim.

“Never mind, Catesby.  Damn him!  Consider my predicament!  How can I go to the Administrator with a lame-duck story about missing TNT and nothing done about it?”

“Nothing done?  You’ve passed the buck, haven’t you?  Catesby is under arrest, you say.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know Catesby,” Grim retorted quietly.  “He made that fine stand at Beersheba—­when the Arabs rushed the camp, and you weren’t looking.  He took the blame for your carelessness, and never squealed.  You took the credit for his presence of mind, and have treated him like a dog ever since.  You expect me to try to save your bacon and forget Catesby’s?”

“Nonsense, Grim!  You’re talking without your book.  Here’s what happened:  the stuff arrived at Ludd in a truck attached to the end of a mixed train.  The R.T.O.* sent me a memorandum and stalled the truck on a siding.  I gave the memorandum to Catesby.” [Railway Traffic Officer.]