“Is it not relayed from anywhere?” the amir asked, and the German stared at him swiftly—­thus, as if for the first time his own suspicion were aroused.

“From Stamboul, Your Highness—­relayed from Stamboul,” he said, as one who makes concessions.

The amir chuckled softly to himself and smiled.

“These are my engineers,” said he, “all college trained.  They tell me our wireless installation at Khabul, which connects us through Simla with Calcutta and the world beyond, is a very good one, yet it will only reach to Simla, although I should say it is a hundred times as large as yours, and although we have an enormous dynamo to give the energy as against your box of batteries.”

The Germans, who were clustered all about their chief, kept straight faces, but their eyes popped round and their mouths grew stiff with the effort to suppress emotion.

“This, Your Highness, is the last new invention,” said the German chief.

“Then my engineers shall look at it,” said the amir, “for we wish to keep abreast of the inventions.  As you remarked just now, we are a little shut off from the world.  We must not let slip such opportunities for education.”  And then and there he made his engineers go forward to inspect everything, he scarce concealing his merriment; and the Germans stood aside, looking like thieves caught in the act while the workings were disclosed of such a wireless apparatus as might serve to teach beginners.

“It might serve perhaps between one village and the next, while the batteries persisted,” they said, reporting to the amir presently.  The amir laughed, but I thought he looked puzzled-perplexed, rather than displeased.  He turned to Ranjoor Singh: 

“And you are a liar, too?” he asked.

“Nay, Your Royal Highness, I speak truth,” said Ranjoor Singh, saluting him in military manner.

“Then what do you wish?” asked the amir.  “Do you wish to be interned, seeing this is neutral soil on which you trespass?”

“Nay, Your Royal Highness,” answered Ranjoor Singh, with a curt laugh, “we have had enough of prison camps.”

“Then what shall be done with you?” the amir asked.  “Here are men from both sides, and how shall I be neutral?”

The German chief stepped forward and saluted.

“Your Royal Highness, we desire to be interned,” he said.  But the amir glowered savagely.

“Peace!” said he.  “I asked you nothing, one string of lies was enough!  I asked thee a question,” he said, turning again to Ranjoor Singh.

“Since Your Royal Highness asks,” said Ranjoor Singh, “it would be a neutral act to let us each leave your dominions by whichever road we will!”

The amir laughed and turned to his attendants, who laughed with him.

“That is good,” said he.  “So let it be.  It is an order!”

So it came about, sahib, that the Germans and ourselves were ordered hotfoot out of the amir’s country.  But whereas there was only one way the Germans could go, viz, back into Persia, there to help themselves as best they could, the road Ranjoor Singh chose was forward to the Khyber Pass, and so down into India.