But he answered, “Bagdad is not yet taken—­not yet nearly taken.  Between us and Bagdad lies a Turkish army of fifty or sixty thousand men at least.”

I sat silent.  I can draw a map of the world and set the rivers and cities and boundaries down; so I knew that if we could go neither north—­nor south—­nor westward, there remained only eastward, straight-forward into Persia.  He read my thoughts, and nodded.

“Persia is neutral,” he said, with a wave of his hand that might mean anything.  “The Turks have spared no army for one section of the Persian frontier, choosing to depend on savage tribes.  And the Germans have given them Wassmuss to help out.”

“Ah!” said I, making ready to learn at last who Wassmuss might be.  “When we have found this Wassmuss, are we to make him march with us like Tugendheim?”

“If what the Germans in Stamboul said of him is only half-true,” he answered, “we shall find him hard to catch.  Wassmuss is a remarkable man.  Before the war he was consul in Bagdad or somewhere, and he must have improved his time, for he knows enough now to keep all the tribes stirred up against Russians and British.  The Germans send him money, and he scatters it like corn among the hens; but the money would be little use without brains.  The Germans admire him greatly, and he certainly seems a man to be wondered at.  But he is the one weak point, nevertheless—­the only key that can open a door for us.”

“But if he is too wary to be caught?” said I.

“Who knows?” he answered with another of those short gruff laughs.  “But I know this,” said he, “that from afar hills look like a blank wall, yet come closer and the ends of valleys open.  Moreover, where the weakest joint is, smite!  So I shall ride ahead and hunt for that weakest joint, and you shall shepherd the men along behind me.  Go and bring Abraham and the Turk!”

I went and found them.  Abraham was already asleep, no longer wearing the Turkish private soldier’s uniform but his own old clothes again (because, the Turkish soldier having done nothing meriting punishment, Ranjoor Singh had ordered him his uniform returned).  I awoke him and together we went and found the Turk sitting between a Syrian and Gooja Singh; and although I did not overhear one word of what they were saying, I saw that Gooja Singh believed I had been listening.  It seemed good to me to let him deceive himself, so I smiled as I touched the Turk’s shoulder.

“Lo!  Here is our second-in-command!” sneered Gooja Singh, but I affected not to notice.

“Come!” said I, showing the Turk slight courtesy, and, getting up clumsily like a buffalo out of the mud, he followed Abraham and me.  Some of the men made as if to come, too, out of curiosity, but Gooja Singh recalled them and they clustered round him.

When I had brought the Turk uphill to the fire-side, Ranjoor Singh had only one word to say to him.

“Strip!” he ordered.