The carriage rolled off, followed by a crowd of runners, eager out of pure inquisitiveness to see the matter through.  They passed Government House, turned into dusty Macleod Road, and in five or six minutes reached the Custom House, where, turning to the left for a short distance along the Napier Mole, the driver pulled up at a wooden godown, and said—­

“Here we are again, sahib.  Jenkinson sahib, all right.”

Smith ordered the man to wait for him, and went into the godown.  Here he met with a disappointment.  In answer to his inquiry the native clerk, looking at him curiously, said that Mr. Jenkinson was not there, was not even in Karachi.

At this Smith looked blank.

“Your name, sir, is Lieutenant Smith?” said the clerk politely, but with an air of doubt.

“It is.”

“Then I tell you what, sir.  Cable came yesterday for Mr. Jenkinson.  I wired it, instanter, as per instructions, to esteemed employer at Mahableshwar, where he recuperates exhausted energies.  Reply just come.  Here you are:  ’Refer Lieutenant Smith Mr. Macdonald.  Regret absence.’  Mr. Macdonald, sir, little way off.  I have honour to escort you:  do proper thing.”

He conducted Smith some distance down the Mole, the carriage following.  Luckily Mr. Macdonald had not returned to his bungalow for tiffin, but was napping in a little room behind his office, darkened by close trellises, which are found necessary for keeping out the clouds of sand blown up from the shore.

“Eh, what?” said Mr. Macdonald, when his clerk awakened him.  “A visitor this time of day?  Well, show him in.”

He let a little light into the room, and stared when Smith was introduced.  Smith was dripping with perspiration, and not having been able to wash since leaving London, he felt that his appearance must give a fellow-countryman something of a shock.

“What do ye want, man?” asked Mr. Macdonald, somewhat testily.

“Mr. Jenkinson referred me to you, sir—­”

“I have no vacancies, none whatever, and—­”

“My name is Lieutenant Smith, of His Majesty’s navy, and I have just arrived from England.”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Smith; I took ye for—­well, I don’t know what.  Take a wee drappie?  You came by the Peninsular, no doubt.  I hear she came in this morning.”

“No.  I came by aeroplane.”

The Scotsman stared.

“What’s that ye were saying?”

“By aeroplane.  The fact is, Mr. Macdonald, I’m in a hurry.  I’ve got to get off within an hour or so; and I want some petrol for my engine.  Mr. Jenkinson was to have arranged it for me, but being absent he refers me to you, and I shall be immensely obliged if you can manage it for me, and excuse my not entering into particulars, for which I really haven’t time.”

“Is that a fact?  Petrol, is it?  Come away with me; only, upon my word, sir, I will take it very kind if you will give me a few particklers of this astonishing business as we go.”