"What do you mean?" he snapped.
"Is it that they have ceased to teach discretion—at the Wilhelmstrasse?" The Indian's face was a mask.
"I know nothing about the Wilhelmstrasse," the white man answered, in a voice suddenly strained.
"Then it is veree, veree foolish for the captain to leave in his room these plans." Jaimihr Khan took from his girdle a thin roll of blue prints—the plans of the signal tower and Room D which Aimer had given Woodhouse the night before. He held them gingerly between slender thumb and forefinger.
Woodhouse recoiled.
"The general sahib has sent me to search the cap-tain's room," the even voice of Jaimihr Khan ran on. "Behold the results of my journey!"
Woodhouse sent a lightning glance at the door leading to the governor's room, then stepped lightly away from the Indian and regarded him with hard calculating eyes.
"What do you propose to do—with those plans?"
"What should I do?" The white shoulders
