‘That suit you?’ he said.

Ken glanced at the ruins, and smiled.

‘Take Krupps all their time to make that serviceable again,’ he remarked, and the words were hardly out of his mouth before there came a sudden rush of feet, and Kemp, accompanied by no fewer than eight sturdy-looking Turks, came scrambling over the ridge from the right.

‘Don’t kill them,’ shouted Kemp in Turkish.  ’Don’t kill them.  Take them alive.  Ten marks apiece to you if you take them alive.’

The men were on them instantly.  There was no time to shoot.  Stooping swiftly, Roy swung up the broken barrel of the quick-firer, and with a shout sprang at the Turks, whirling the weighty length of steel around his head.

In his powerful hands it was a fearful weapon.  The Turks went down like ninepins.  Ken, who grasped his rifle by the barrel was in no way behind his chum.  The Turks had not been prepared for such a resistance.  Inside ten seconds five of them were down, and the three others had had all they wanted.  They ran for their lives.

Kemp had taken no part in the battle.  He was standing a little aloof on the upper ground.  Roy, having disposed of his assailant, whirled round and made for the man.

Kemp whipped out a repeating pistol and levelled it at his head.

‘Drop that or I shoot,’ he said viciously.

‘No, you don’t,’ cried Ken.

Ken had seen the pistol in Kemp’s hand, and had just had time to get his own rifle to his shoulder, the muzzle levelled full at Kemp’s head.

‘Drop that pistol, or I’ll blow your head off,’ he said curtly.

Kemp’s lips parted in a snarl, showing his white teeth.  For a moment it looked as though he would shoot Roy and take his chances.

But his pluck was not quite equal to it, and the grim, determined look on Ken’s face daunted him.  With a muttered oath, he dropped the pistol.

‘And a very pretty toy, too!’ said Roy, springing forward and picking it up.  ‘A nice new automatic, Roy.  We’ll keep that as spoils of war.’

‘Don’t waste time over the pistol,’ said Ken sharply.  ’Collar the chap himself.  He’ll be better worth bringing back than a cart load of pistols.’

In an instant Roy’s great arms were round Kemp, and lifting him clean off his feet he popped him down in front of Ken.

‘Tie him,’ said Ken.

‘I am an officer,’ said Kemp haughtily.  ’I will not be bound like a common criminal.’

‘You were an English ship’s steward when I last saw you,’ Ken retorted.  ’And engaged in the charming occupation of signalling out of the bathroom port to an enemy submarine.’

It was evidently no news to Kemp that Kenneth Carrington was his adversary of the bathroom.  Dark as it had been, he must somehow have recognised him.  He glared back defiantly.

‘I was serving my country,’ he answered with a lofty air.

’And what do you think would have happened to a Britisher who had been caught on a German ship, engaged in an act of such abominable treachery?’ returned Ken hotly.